Of Heroes and Thieves
by Wickfield
Summary: Mungojerrie's greatest ambition is to become a criminal that goes down in history. When Macavity gives him an important assignment, he thinks he has his chance, but Mungojerrie soon learns the difference between fame and infamy. Complete.
1. Prospects of Notoriety

**Author's Note:**

_There are a few things I need to tell you in order to better enjoy the following story:_

_I wrote this story with the original London recording of Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer in mind. Therefore they are not quite as immature or silly as they are in later productions, including the video._

_With the exception of characters created and personified in the play, I stick mostly to the original poems and try to avoid fanon. Therefore, the Cats do not live in the Junkyard, Jellylorum is a younger queen, Macavity is not a mutant red beast, and catnip is not a drug – it is similar to snuff. _

_I call Macavity "Professor" because he is based off of the Sherlock Holmes character James Moriarty, who is a professor. I also opted to make him more genteel, which somehow seems more dangerous._

_I also incorporated some nice lines from Eliot's other poems, maybe you can find them! ;)_

_This story was originally written in 2007/2008 for my sister's now-closed Mungojerrie shrine. I thought I'd post it here so that those who didn't get a chance originally can read it now, so plsease be kind and leave a review! :P_

_-X-_

_Hold tight, hold tight, we must insist that the world is what we have always taken it to be._

– _T.S. Eliot_

**OF HEROES AND THIEVES**

**Chapter One**

Prospects of Notoriety

This story outlines the process through which a thief became a hero, in a little more than a week. Of course a thief is not generally the first selection, nor most of the time should he be. He is not aptly calculated to be a hero. But even a criminal may have heroic intentions, or a noble feeling stirring in his breast, and such was the case with Mungojerrie the calico Cat, the same Mungojerrie that was the masculine half of the notorious duo, Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer.

Perhaps it was not noble intentions, but a lack of variety that drove him to do it. After all, every morning was almost exactly the same. Mother would rush into the room, carrying her slippers; Father would rush into the room, with a report on the breakfast; the girls would rush into the room, with their recently broken toys, and they would all confront each other with the bad news.

"Mother, my ballerina was knocked off the shelf! It's broken! It was that _horrible _Cat!"

"Mildred, the kippers are missing off the table – did Cook forget to set them out?"

"Dear, they were there five minutes ago!"

"Well they aren't there now!"

"Oh, it was Mungojerrie!"

"_Or_ Rumpelteazer."

"What color ribbon was it wearing?"

"Who?"

"The Cat, child!"

"They never wear their ribbons, mother, they always manage to _claw them off!_"

"They wouldn't steal breakfast if you children would feed them!"

"It's not their job to feed the Cats, Jack, that's your job!"

"Very well _my_ having to feed the Cats when _I_ was not the one to ask for them!"

"You _gave _them to us for _Christmas_!"

And thus it all went round, and entirely off-subject, until the father blamed the children, and the children blamed the father, and the mother blamed the Cat; and still no one chanced to see the little calico thief sneak out the back Cat-door, slink down the flight of stairs, and high-tail it into the basement with his latest catch.

The Morning It All Began was a Sunday in the English autumn. The house inVictoria Grove, a long-established house in a longer-established neighborhood, had suffered its usual casualities that morning, but the day went on just as it always did. A pale sunlight shone through the ground-level windows of the basement, throwing square patches of light onto the dusty floor. These spots were particularly inviting, and Rumpelteazer knew it. She had already completed her morning duties, shoved the Cat bed into the light, and was now sprawled out to all the corners of it, dead asleep, and having her tummy warmed comfortably by the sun.

Mungojerrie, upon returning, kicked her in the side.

He wasn't very gentle.

"Wake up, you dingbat, and look at what I've got."

"Aw, shut up, Jerrie, five more minutes." Our main character had no patience with his sister, and launched another kick, which sent her tumbling out of the Cat bed onto the other side. She picked herself up, dusted herself off, and scowled at him.

These Cats were East-Enders, and therefore lacked the lingual grace of their owners. They were picked up as kittens from a pet store during the family's holiday, and presented to the girls the next morning. If the family knew of the Reign of Terror that was to follow, they might have thought twice about bringing the calico twins into their home.

"What would you have done if it wasn't me and some villain?" Mungojerrie quizzed his sister sternly, as he began to unpack their breakfast. Rumpelteazer never would listen to him, even though he was _far_ more experienced in criminal matters.

"I woulda shot ya," Rumpelteazer answered, smartly.

"They don't _make_ Cat-sized firearms."

"Oh, then, I woulda run," Rumpelteazer nodded. Feeling she had won the conversation, and being of a naturally generous nature, she made over his steal, and in tolerable spirits they sat down to an early breakfast, with the milk Rumpelteazer had "nicked", so to speak, from off the front porch.

"It's a good thing we figured out how to get those ribbons off our necks," Mungojerrie began, with his mouth full, and Rumpelteazer nodded vigorously. The ribbons had been a pathetic attempt by the humans to identify the wicked Cats at the scene of the crime; unfortunately the ribbons were no match for Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer.

"Yeah, I 'eard 'em sayin', 'If it is a pink one, it is the girl, and if it is a blue one, it is the boy," Rumpelteazer said in perfect imitation. "Sissy ribbons."

"Especially for me! I'm a tom! But ya have to remember, humans just don't think of those things," Mungojerrie said, licking the oil off his paws mournfully. "They don't even got 'nough sense to know 'at two Cats who are _clearly _brother and sister can't share the same cushion without the other Cats thinking things."

That was certainly true, and annoying; it was known perfectly well that the partners _would _occasionally disguise their familial relationship, but _only_ in accordance to a heist – sometimes being "mates" on the surface was more useful than being siblings. Heck, Rumpelteazer was often thin enough to be disguised as a _tom,_ and once even, Mungojerrie had grown his whiskers out and pretended to be Rumpelteazer's father. But it still didn't keep the unwanted rumors from flying around, because Cats gossip almost as much as humans. At the thought of this, the two fell silent, a rare occasion.

Mungojerrie often became thoughtful while eating, and this was especially true with brined kippers. He turned to his sister. "Rumpelteazer," he began confidingly, to see if she was listening. She wasn't. "Rumpelteazer!"

"'Ey, watch it, Jerrie! Say it already!"

Rumpelteazer righted her dish of milk, and looked at him with fake interest. That was good enough for Mungojerrie. "This might sound kinda stupid, Rumpelteazer," he warned her.

"It probably will," agreed Rumpelteazer encouragingly. "Now go on."

"I keep feelin' like I wanna break outta the box," he said passionately. "I wanna do somethin' grand. A big heist. Somethin' that'll put me name in the 'istory books!"

"What about yesterday?"

Mungojerrie mentally ran through his list of the previous day's crimes. "I stole a can of tuna," was all he could recall.

"But," said his sister, pointedly, "it was _Alaskan_ tuna."

"That ain't what I'm talkin' about, Rumpelteazer! I'm gonna do somethin' that'll make _Macavity_ say, 'Mungojerrie, you're my hero!' I wanna go out with a bang! I wanna be a hero!"

Rumpelteazer considered this. His story had moved her, literally, as she was now sitting next to him and petting him consolingly. "And to think," she wailed, "you might've 'ad a fightin' chance if our mother 'and't got 'it by a car, and father didn't try to eat us."

Mungojerrie nodded sadly. (I don't know if that was true, but Rumpelteazer believed it, and Mungojerrie suspected it, so it is true for the purposes of this story.)

A sudden little scratching at the door interrupted Mungojerrie's reverie, and Rumpelteazer swiftly hurled the stolen goods beneath an old desk. "Who could this be so early?" she asked, warily, but judging by the fretful little tapping Mungojerrie made an astute deduction. "I think I 'ave an idea…" He knocked open the Cat door and came face to face with a dully-colored tom.

"What do you want, Jonathan?"

At the sudden appearance of the fearsome Mungojerrie, Jonathan seemed to forget what he was going to say. He looked behind him, as if something were going to get him, and he looked into the room, as if something was going to get him, and then he spat. There were certain "jobs" Jonathan had done, and certain "punishments" he had gone through, which made Jonathan act kinda…odd. He was Macavity's most faithful henchcat. Not the most appreciated, but most faithful nonetheless. Despite Jonathan's usefulness, he never dared complain to Macavity, and it was fun to boss him around. But today he had a bit more confidence, because he had been sent on a mission.

"You two having a moment?" asked Jonathan with the authority he almost never had.

"Shut up, Jonathan," the siblings said, putting him into place.

Jonathan crept inside and regarded them both, trying to regain his influence. "Well something must have made you forget that Professor Macavity wanted you today."

Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer glanced at each other, concerned. Jonathan was wringing his paws, but looking very smug; Mungojerrie would have wiped that look off his face if he were not panicking. "Is 'e mad at us, Jon?" Mungojerrie asked, anxiously.

Just the thought of Macavity being angry scared the yellowish henchcat. "No…uh…I don't _think_ so….but you'd better come on."

Mungojerrie nodded. "Roight. Come on Rum – where are you?" His sister had gone without a trace.

"Be there in a minute! I wanna look seductive for Macavity!" Rumpelteazer was under the impression that she was the most desirable queen in London, and that she was doing the Napoleon of Crime a favor by flirting with him. Mungojerrie, however, knew better.

"_What_ are you _doin'_?" he groaned.

"I'm lookin' for me pearls. You took em!"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did, because they ain't 'ere!"

"Can we please…uh…_hurry this up_?" Jonathan cried, getting more frightened by the minute.

By this time Mungojerrie had worked his way back to the stash. "If you weren't a broad I'd kick you right in the stomach," he growled, and yanked Rumpelteazer away from her search and without her pearls. She protested all the way, but when Jonathan opened the door and the three of them stepped into the sun, she shut up and went along like the good thief she was.

It was very odd that Macavity would request to see them. He rarely saw anyone himself, usually referring them to other agents. It wasn't even very often that Mungojerrie or Rumpelteazer did jobs for Macavity. Their line of business was theivery and the rare heist, and Macavity usually had his own personal operations to deal with. But occasionally he would seek their services; after all, they_ were _quite notorious. In fact, it was on a job for Macavity that Mungojerrie got his scar – a three-centimeter gash on his poor right paw, a result of when reconnaisance got ugly. It didn't bother him, he was rather proud of it, but he had to keep it hidden, because it was a distinguishing mark that could identify him if he wanted to remain unknown.

It took some walk to get to Macavity's centre of operation. Though the twins lived in a swanky neighborhood themselves, the human who owned Macavity was wealthier, and his house was several streets down. Macavity once lived with a professor, who had retired from teaching but found entertainment in other occupations. He met his untimely end in Switzerland, and left Macavity not much more than a stray. Whether this loss fueled Macavity's great criminal mind, or whether he merely operated for the fun of it, that Cat was certainly the instigator behind all the infamous crimes in London.

Because he had no relatives who wished to claim it, the house in which the human had lived was shut down and boarded-up some years ago. It had fallen into disrepair; the shutters hung on the hinges, the curtains were faded, the lawn had grown up around the fence, and the nameplate had become tarnished and dull. It was an unlovely spot in a row of perfect houses, and I have a feeling the neighbors probably complained. One nice facet of the dingy house was that, where there originally had been no door for the feline member of the family, there was now a large gap. Jonathan crept in through it, then Mungojerrie, then Rumpelteazer, who hacked and coughed from the dust.

The inside wasn't much different from the outside – a thick silence, broken occasionally by someone coming out of a room and creaking on the floorboards, and leaving pawprints in the dust. Mungojerrie thought it sort of looked like their house; he didn't realize that a house run entirely by Cats has a very abnormal atmosphere. He didn't recognize any of the Strays going about their work, but that was nothing exceptional. He was very bad with faces. He might spot someone the day before, but on the next meeting he had entirely forgotten them. Probably he wouldn't even have remembered Rumpelteazer if there wasn't the family resemblance.

Jonathan greeted a few fellow henchcats, made a few swift turns, and began to lead the partners through the dark corridor. It got darker and darker the farther down they went, and Mungojerrie wondered distantly why no one had ever opened the drapes. The Strays apparently did a whole lot of climbing on them, judging by the claw-shredded fabric, but it was never with the intention of letting in the light. He noticed Rumpelteazer shivered, which he thought was rather cowardly; he focused his attention on following Jonathan, and finding him in the shadows. But even Mungojerrie stood up and straightened his collar when they paused at the door of the library, which was where Macavity made his office.

Rumors had spread about the Napoleon of Crime, some of them true, most of them fantastic, all of them spread by former henchcats or lady-friends. Consequently, it had gotten around that Macavity was a brainless brute who could disappear at will and fly. (And it is true, that particular rumor was what got Mungojerrie working for him in the first place, and the hopes he could learn too. He soon found out the sad truth that levitation simply meant "jumping incredibly high".) But except when Macavity was wearing one of his extravagant ruby-red "disguises" (he had a flair for the theatric), or when he was in a particular rage, he was quite dignified and always very quiet.

At the moment, Jonathan was heaving deep breaths and wouldn't open the door, so Mungojerrie did it. Macavity was standing by a fire when they entered. "Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer, sir," Jonathan squeaked, and hurriedly ducked out of the room. Though there was no need for a fire at ten o'clock in the morning, and certainly not on a crisp day like this, Professor Macavity was evidently very much preoccupied by the blaze. He stood there, staring at it for minutes.

He continued to stare at it for more minutes.

Eventually, the minutes turned into a quarter of an hour, and he still stood there, quiet and contemplative, and completely ignoring the partners in crime.

Rumpelteazer shifted. "Does he know we're 'ere?" she whispered at length, with one eye on her brother and the other carefully watching the Cat by the fire.

"I think so," Mungojerrie answered, but he was doubtful. They looked at each other, and looked at the Napoleon of Crime. Mungojerrie screwed up his courage.

"'Scuse me, Macavity…sir?"

"What?" His back was still to the fire. The partners looked at each other again.

"What did you want us…for?" Mungojerrie asked.

"Pardon?"

"You wanted to see us, sir," Mungojerrie explained. Macavity finally turned around.

"Why, Mungojerrie," he said, low in his throat, "you don't very well expect me to carry on a conversation with Rumpelteazer in the room, considering she has nothing whatsoever to do with the task at hand." He glared at her, then turned back to the fire.

Rumpelteazer looked stricken. "I can go, you know. I'll go now. I'm going." _You're gonna miss me_, she thought. But she meekly turned tail and crept out of the room.

Of course that did not keep her from shoving Jonathan out of the way and peeping beneath the door.

It was only now that Mungojerrie became unnerved; he felt extraordinarily alone without Rumpelteazer, in the big room, with the bright fire and the Cat that matched it. He heard a scuffling sound far away, a sound he couldn't identify, and he gulped.

Macavity turned around again, but it took a minute for him to focus on the notorious thief. "Please take a seat, my boy," he hissed.

Mungojerrie took a seat.

"Thank you," Macavity said, sitting down himself, and taking a delicate pinch of some very good catnip.

"Now then, wha' did you want, sir?" Mungojerrie asked, trying to be businesslike and easy, but failing miserably at both.

Macavity opened his mouth to say something when that same scuffling noise came from the same far away part of the house. Mungojerrie looked that way, but Macavity either didn't hear it or simply ignored it. Or maybe all the smoke was beginning to dull his senses.

"Do you hear that?" asked Mungojerrie.

"Hear what?" asked Macavity, blandly.

"It's a scuttlin' sound, out in the 'allway."

"I don't hear anything." Macavity stared at him. "Did _you_ hear something?"

"I thought I did," faltered Mungojerrie, and turned his head to look at the smoke rolling joyously out of the fireplace.

"Well, no matter. It bears no effect on what I have to tell you. Mungojerrie, my boy, I have a job for you. An important job. A job I cannot trust to _anyone_ else."

In other circumstances, Mungojerrie might have wondered what kind of special job this was, and why Macavity hadn't selected a more familiar colleague to carry it out. But our calico friend was too hung on the word "important", and how that might relate to the word "hero", to think prudently of this or of anything else. Macavity noticed this as well, and went on with his speech. "It's very simple, really. All I need you to do is deliver a note to one of my friends, who will be waiting on the corner of the street."

Mungojerrie watched, raptly, as Macavity leapt onto the mantelpiece to retrieve an envelope – to you or I, it would be used to send a cordial letter, but to a Cat it was the size of a confidential package. He showed this envelope to Mungojerrie. "You see. Harmless, really."

"It's important?" Mungojerrie asked, making sure he had heard correctly.

"Of course," answered Macavity, as if it were only to be expected.

"I 'and this envelope," Mungojerrie repeated, slowly, "to a bloke on the sidewalk?"

"More or less."

"That's it?"

"Yes. Sometimes it takes just a little job to get big things accomplished," Macavity said. "That was a very good quote, don't you think? I shall have to get Jonathan to write that one down, yes?"

"Yeah…sure. Say," Mungojerrie realized, suddenly, "why didn't you want Rumpelteazer in the room?"

"The job is too big," said Macavity, "for such a bit of a girl."

"If the job is so big," Mungojerrie went on, examining all the angles, "then why would you do it in the middle of the street? Isn't that kinda risky?"

"Mungojerrie. Dear boy," Macavity chuckled. "We must always take risks. That is our destiny."

That was probably true. Mungojerrie thought he should write that one down, too. "Oh, yeah. Is that all you wanted, professor?"

"Hmm?" Macavity had already turned back to his fire. "Oh yes, you may go. That was all I had to say to you. Come back here at ten till six o'clock, to get your instructions."

Mungojerrie nodded, and sidled out of the room. He crept down the hallway and into the parlour of the great house, where he found his sister shooting craps with about four other Toms. She jumped up as soon as she saw him.

"What did 'e say?" she demanded.

"What are you doing?" Mungojerrie asked, surveying the game.

"It doesn't matter what the ruddy 'eck I'm doin', tell me what he said!"

"I can't, what with these chaps around," said Mungojerrie, looking at his fellows with contempt.

"Well, I've as good as won anyway. I 'ave too!" she shouted at one protestor. "And _you_ owe me four socks by Friday," she added threateningly to one brown tabby. "Come on, Mungojerrie…'ey, what's the row?"

Mungojerrie pulled Rumpelteazer into the hallway, his green eyes glowing with excitement.

"What?" Rumpelteazer asked impatiently.

"Macavity wants me to do a special job. It's a big one. _Important._"

Rumpelteazer clutched his arm, easily caught up in her brother's excitement. "Really? That's just what you was talking about this morning!"

Mungojerrie nodded, grinning.

"What do we have to do?" his sister asked.

Mungojerrie paused. "Oh…uh…well it's kinda dangerous. Really more of a one-Cat job, Rumpelteazer."

She realized then. "Oh. You mean just you?"

Mungojerrie nodded again. She was silent for a while, thinking.

"But we're partners!" she protested finally. "You can't just go off on your own!"

"I actually can," Mungojerrie said.. "I did for a while. It was only recently you starting palling around."

"That ain't right!" She was trying to look defiant, but she was really quite hurt, and Mungojerrie noticed it, which bothered him. "We're partners!"

"Well it's nothin' excitin', anyway," Mungojerrie admitted. "Just 'andin' a envelope to another covey."

Rumpelteazer still didn't trust him. She opened her mouth to say something else, but her nose twitched instead. She drew in a large breath, then peered down the hall. "Mungojerrie, do you smell smoke?"

"Oh no," Mungojerrie moaned, remembering the fire. Her eyes grew big, and Mungojerrie's eyes grew big, and both of them rushed down the corridor. They found thick smoke seeping out from beneath the doorway of the library.

The partners shouldered their way in. The room was as full of smoke as a street may be full of fog, but Macavity either didn't notice or didn't care, but was there, staring at the fire as before. The smoke swirled around his head, and with his bright ginger fur he looked very like the flame himself.

"Macavity, the chimney's on fire!" Rumpelteazer shrieked, as Mungojerrie looked desperately for a way to stamp it out.

"Oh yes," Macavity said calmly. "It can be very troublesome sometimes. Then all you can do is to put it out."

Rumpelteazer looked despairingly at Mungojerrie, who, in a quick burst of thought, pulled the curtain from the window and flung it over the fire. He stamped on it and so did his sister. The fire sputtered, and guttered, and then went out, leaving only a glowing coal which Macavity carefully kicked into the fireplace.

Macavity looked over his shoulder, and Mungojerrie trembled. But Macavity was apparently pleased. "Oh Mungojerrie, I just knew you could at least begin to extinguish that old flame. Very noble. Of course, I don't need to put it out just yet…" He studied the thief for a moment, with a pair of sharp golden eyes. "Yes, Mungojerrie – you are exactly the person to trust with my little job."

"Looks like you're a 'ero already," Rumpelteazer muttered sourly, though she was still shaking from fear. Mungojerrie patted her consolingly. He had to agree that the prospects were promising.

If only he knew the meaning of the word!


	2. An Inopportune Occurrence

**Chapter Two**

An Inoppurtune Occurrence

Six o'clock found Mungojerrie out on the street, with a thin package tucked up under his vest for safe-keeping. His instructions were simple; Macavity had explained them to one of his agents, who in turn explained them to Mungojerrie. That was the way Macavity usually carried out his business, in a roundabout way, and Mungojerrie was more comfortable with that routine.

Mungojerrie went over the rules again in his head, partially to remember them, mainly because he was bored. He was to stand stand at the side of the street, under _this_ streetlamp, and wait for a Cat with a tortoiseshell coat. He was not to say anything, just hand him the envelope. And by all means, be _inconspicuous_!

Well that was what Mungojerrie planned on doing, and he was very good at it. He lazed about on the curb, and sprawled out on the walk, and lolled around at the trash cans lined up against the nearby brick wall, just like any ordinary Cat, but secretly waiting expectantly for the one to whom he would deliver Macavity's Important envelope.

However, as the evening drew on, and it became not six o'clock but seven o'clock, and smells of steaks seemed to drift through the alleys and passageways, Mungojerrie became hungry – and anxious. This neighborhood, incidentally, was one he rarely visited. Of course that might have been because it was rather poor, and it is foolish for a thief to try and rob a poor Cat. They more than likely won't have anything on them.

Mungojerrie contemplated this as he stood there, shivering as the wind picked up and stirred his fur, and he re-positioned the sharp corners of the envelope against his chest again. He looked around, carelessly, and spied a Cat down on the corner of the street. A mere shadow in the light beneath the streetlamp. Now you or I, being rational humans, know not to judge by appearances, and of course we _never_ do. But Mungojerrie was just a Cat, and on seeing she was just a tattered grey queen, Mungojerrie turned away because she, he knew, was of no use whatsoever.

Mungojerrie wondered what could be so important inside the envelope. He held it up to the light glaring down from his own streetlamp, in the hopes he could discern its contents. There was the shadow of papers inside. _Prob'ly just a letter with instructions_ _or something_, he speculated. He shrugged, and slipped it back beneath his favorite winter vest, then crouched down to wait and be bored some more.

Mungojerrie was in grave danger of falling asleep when he suddenly heard the sound of paws padding on the walk behind him. Now this would be his fellow. He readied the envelope and tried to remember what he was or wasn't supposed to say when he turned around to greet the agent, and realized in horror that it was no Cat sauntering up the street.

It was the police dog.

Mungojerrie drew a quick breath, hid the package, and turned away, immediately the picture of relaxation. As I'm sure you've heard before, he was a quick-change artist when it came to appearances.

But not all dogs are the loafs they are made out to be, and Mungojerrie's hurried actions did not escape this Labrador's keen eye.

"What might a lad like you be doing out on the street at this hour?" asked the dog, dragging his chain, courtesy of the humans, and eyeing Mungojerrie suspiciously.

Mungojerrie knew better – he didn't say anything, and in an unusually religious act prayed the Pol would go away.

"Did you hear me, or are you just daft?"

Mungojerrie turned around this time. "Oh, I'm sorry constable," he said, voice choking with emotion. "I was so busy looking for my sister that I simply _didn't_ notice you…. I'm sorry." Would the old Pollicle buy it? Mungojerrie hoped he was as good an actor as he thought he was.

"Well you may be looking for your sister," said the dog officially, "but this is loitering. We all can't just stand about on the street, you know. It'd get awfully crowded!"

Mungojerrie was not impressed by the _obvious_ hilarity of that remark.

The police dog noticed this too, and it mightily offended him. "And what have you got under your vest?" he demanded.

Mungojerrie thought a moment. "Just a letter, sir. My sister was going to take it to our mother. She's pretty bad off, our mother is." Mungojerrie drew in a shuddering breath, looking at the Dog from the corner of his eye. "We don't even know if she'll make it through the New Year."

"Why don't you let me see that letter," the police dog pressed, growling.

Mungojerrie debated if he should call the bluff, and perhaps his thoughtful face was the very impression needed to send the police dog on his way. He took a long look at it. "You know, lad, I hope you have good luck with your mother. Hope your sister turns up soon," he said kindly, and with a precise about-face, he turned down the corner.

Mungojerrie stared after him for a moment, wondering why that little bit of deception had been so easy, and decided that that Pollicle must have been a pretty dumb one. He took one last look in that direction and opted to head down the street a bit, just in case.

Now _where _was that tortoiseshell?

That was the most vital question on his mind, and what Mungojerrie focused on, when he heard the sound of a chain around the corner. His ears swivelled in that direction, and he realized they were the dog chains.

He paused, looking over his shoulder, and saw his friend the Cop and another covey, both in their smart blue collars, bouldering down the street and looking quite determined. "You are under arrest, sir! I knew you were Mungojerrie all along – the notorious Cat who sends his picture to the newspapers! Ah ha! Thought you could fool us, you scamp!"

Mungojerrie regarded them and the Labrador's little speech. Well, if he was going to have to make a run for it, he might as well get it over with.

"You there! You! Stop! Stop him!" The police dogs took off after the scrambling Cat-burglar, barking as if their instincts were simply overpowering them.

Mungojerrie was a fast runner. He could beat Rumpelteazer in a foot race any time. The notorious calico thief ran at the rate only a fleeing Cat can, and he seemed to move in an orange stream, like a ghost. He leapt over trashcans, and ducked beneath stairwells, and squeezed through rails as if there were no bones in his body, always with the dogs barking and howling at his tail, but always managing to just elude their sharp, apprehending teeth.

The chase went on for two blocks, all three ending up a great distance from the original starting point, and Mungojerrie found himself in yet another neighborhood he did not know, which was an advantage to the Pollicles. He paused, just slightly, to determine which way to turn and, hearing their chains dragging behind him, decided to turn left. He slid on the street as he tried to turn the corner, skidded to the left, and went tumbling into a set of nicely pruned shrubs.

He clambered out of them, only to find the police dogs two yards away. The only thing Mungojerrie disliked more than losing was getting caught. Wheezing, he looked around for an escape. The only way out of it was by climbing up the drainpipe of the big, _tall_ brick house and getting to the roof. Mungojerrie took one last glance behind him before darting up the drainpipe and quickly finding himself three stories above ground.

He perched on the edge of the roof, looking down hesitantly. Nothing between him and the ground for a sheer drop of thirty feet! Except a clothesline strung up between two windows. The thief heaved a few breaths, and checked to make sure his envelope was still safe inside his vest. He patted it carefully, and felt even more important.

"I don't like bein' chased by dogs," he announced grandly from his safety zone on top of the roof, recognizing he now had the upper hand.

"You wouldn't run if you didn't have something to hide!" bellowed the deputy, who was a Mastiff. "Now if you don't come down we shall come up after you!"

"I should like to see you try," answered Mungojerrie, complacently, examining his claws.

This garnered more snarls from the brutes, who foamed at the mouth and scratched their own blunt claws against the bricks.

Mungojerrie had a wonderful time, goading the big police dogs on and knowing they would never be able to get at him; he took out the envelope and dangled it over the edge, and then stretched out to have a nap. He had just shut his eyes when he suddenly and inexplicably slid four inches down the roof.

A tile clattered against the walkway below.

He looked over the edge and saw it hit the ground. Mungojerrie climbed up the roof, moving about a foot farther up, when three more tiles dropped off and disappeared into the shrubbery. Mungojerrie, with a frightened hiss, slid to the edge of the roof.

The police dogs also noticed the tiles, and looked up to see Mungojerrie grasping the roof with his claws dug in.

"It won't be long now!" they cried, jubilant.

_If I fall they'll catch me right off!_ Mungojerrie thought desperately, and slid down two more inches. The sound of another tile breaking lose was music to the Pollicle's ears. _I'm gonna have to find a way to get off this roof_, the Cat decided. But where could he go? Down was out of the question, of course; down meant right into the Pollicle's grasp. And up would only mean knocking more tiles off and sliding down faster. Where could he possibly go?

Across.

He peered out into the darkness and saw the faint white mark of the clothesline, with a pair of socks hanging off of it. Socks, being wonderful playthings, make a good omen to a Cat. Slowly he made his way along the edge of the roof to the side of the house, stuck out a tentative paw, and gripped onto the clothesline.

Mungojerrie had once been to a circus, and he remembered it clearly. He thought of it now, and stuck up his tail for balance. He walked, unsteadily, out to the middle of the clothesline, and was thrilled to find himself halfway to the other roof, the tiles of which were hopefully more secure.

The Pollicles stared up in disbelief. "Is that Cat…" began one.

"Climbing across a clothesline…" sighed the other. They stared up at the ludicrous sight for a while longer.

"Let's just go back to headquarters and catch him another day when he comes down," proposed the Mastiff. His companion nodded. "It's not like we'll never see him again."

"Have fun on the clothesline," sneered the Labrador. Mungojerrie looked down to see them pounding off down the street.

But when Mungojerrie looked down he looked way down. Really, really far. As in, _really_ far. To a foot-tall Cat it seemed as if he were staring into a deep abyss. Mungojerrie froze, and could go neither forward nor back, but was stranded between the two houses, holding tight to the fragile thread that kept him from falling into the dark world below.

A frightened feline is not a happy sight. His fur stood straight on end, sticking out of his vest, and his eyes grew wide and, worse of all, his claws lashed out. His claws lashed out and cut the string – the clothesline snapped, and frantically striking out for something – _anything_ – to break his fall, Mungojerrie plunged through the air, colliding with the pavement below which, needless to say, promptly knocked him out.

The night drew on, and poor Mungojerrie lay there for several hours in a state of complete senselessness. As the hours passed several Cats could be seen appearing on the street, because every Jellicle Cat who knows his tail from his whiskers does all his most important work in the hours of the night, when the family is asleep. There was probably a Stray tortoiseshell among them, a Cat who did not get the message he was looking for, and likely went back to report this failure. But none of them – Jellicle or Stray – noticed the unconscious calico lying in the shadows between the two well-kept houses.

Perhaps it was providence, perhaps it was simply the moon casting a dim white glow, made dimmer by the smoke, over Mungojerrie's prostrate figure; either way, at ten o'clock a miracle happened. One red queen, who decided it was too much trouble to take the long route home, discovered the thief while taking a shortcut through the darkish alley.

First of all she hissed and prepared to strike him. Then finding the thing did not hiss or bark in return, she examined him.

"Oh boy," she said, inspecting the knocked-out Cat in the alley. "He didn't land on his feet." She nudged him to make him wake up, but that did not work, so she kicked him.

When Mungojerrie awoke he swore firstly, and then he rubbed his bleary eyes. Then he decided never to kick Rumpelteazer again, if it hurt this bad. Every part of his body seemed to hurt. He groaned, still half-insensible, and then the magnitude of the situation shouldered its way into his exhausted brain. He had no idea how long he had been out, but he knew that the agent had probably come and gone without getting the message. He quickly checked his vest for his envelope, and breathed a sigh of relief at finding it safe. That was good, but it could have been better. It could have been on his way with the tortoiseshell Cat. He glanced up at the brick walls towering above him on both sides, and found himself in that same entirely unfamiliar place.

All this time the queen had steadily been staring at him, waiting for him to say something and watching to make sure he didn't faint again.

Mungojerrie blinked when he saw his Good Samaritan, thought for sure he must be dead because Cats like this didn't exist on the street, and then he said, dapperly, "'Ello, sweet-'art."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I get for saving a tom," she groaned. "Real smart. At least you're all right."

"Wait!" he protested as she turned to leave, and tried to follow her but shrieked at the horrible pain shooting through his hind leg. The queen turned.

"Are you okay?"

She really was concerned now, and came back to check on him.

"Go on Red, I'm fine, I'll make it myself," Mungojerrie gasped, writhing around from the pain.

Bombalurina was thoroughly confused. "Who _are_ you?" she demanded.

He couldn't tell her. "Who are you?" Mungojerrie countered as the pain let up.

"Ha, but I asked _you_ first."

"_Ladies_ first."

"Well that's fine and dandy but I'm no lady so you'd better tell me, otherwise we'll be here all night."

Mungojerrie closed his eyes and hoped this was the last of his nine lives. He would rather die than face Macavity.

"You can go, I'll make it on my own," Mungojerrie announced, but he wasn't very sure if he really could.

Fortunately neither was she. "Listen, you can't put any weight on that leg," she said. "Do you think if someone supported you – "

Mungojerrie nodded rapidly.

"All right," she sighed. Mungojerrie struggled to stand up and nearly collapsed, but Bombalurina quickly put her arm around him. "If you can walk, I'll take you to get help. No funny business, all right?"

Mungojerrie looked at her in incredulity. "I – I guess."

"Well then, you can follow me. I'll take you to Munkustrap, and we'll try and get you some help."

"Who's Munk…that guy?" Mungojerrie asked, suspiciously.

"He's the Jellicle Leader. Wait, no, that's not right!" she said, hurriedly correcting herself. She ticked everything off on her paw as she recited, "He's the Jellicle _Guardian_ and Alonzo is the Jellicle _Protector_. Alonzo is Munkustrap's brother. Old Deuteronomy is the real Jellicle Leader…" The queen rolled her eyes at having to remember it all. "I'll tell you later. You'll probably get to meet all of them." She gave him an encouraging smile, as if meeting them were an exceptional treat.

Despite being in the immediate presence of Bombalurina, who had actually taken the time to smile at him, Mungojerrie was an odd tom and anything but encouraged. Jellicle Leader. Jellicle Cat. Mungojerrie, despite being one himself, made an especial point never to associate with them. They all seemed to know each other, and if a single one of them heard of the notorious duo, all of them did, and that would be the end of him.

At least his envelope was safe. Maybe there was still some way he could get it to that tortoiseshell Cat…but it was doubtful. There went glory. There, probably, went any hopes of safety too. If he bungled such an important job, there was no telling what the punishment would be. Though Mungojerrie would never see the ginger Cat himself, Macavity might send all his agents after him. He would probably end up worse than Jonathan.

Bombalurina had to pull him to get him to go. Mungojerrie stumbled along, now hardly even noticing the queen that was helping him.

_Oh no,_ he thought miserably, as she led him away. _Now I've gone an' done it._


	3. By Any Other Name

**Chapter Three**

By Any Other Name

Mungojerrie learned many things that night. One of them was that there must be 500 streets in that neighborhood, and he and Bombalurina went up and down seventy of them. The queen, he figured, must have had a plummy sense of direction, because every time they would come to a fork she would tell him, "This is the turn," in an authoritative voice and they would creep down the road at the same snail's pace, yet always carrying him farther from the streetlamp he was supposed to be stationed at. "Yeah, and I thought I was going to be taking a shortcut," Bombalurina muttered, hoisting Mungojerrie up onto her shoulder. "We're almost there, now," she told him.

He didn't know where "there" was.

Mungojerrie was arranged in several awkward positions, all of which depended on what was easiest for Bombalurina at the moment, but eventually he was upright and saw a small shape emerge from the darkness. It was a darkly-colored queen-kit. Bombalurina noticed her too, and waved her over frantically.

The kitten seemed very excited to be in Bombalurina's presence. "Look, Bombalurina," she said as soon as she got within earshot, "I'm wearing the collar you gave me!"

"Yeah toms'll love it," the queen replied shortly. "Now listen, do you think you can get this tom to Jennyanydots'?"

Mungojerrie looked up, injured that she wanted to get rid of him so quick. The kitten just looked at him. "Is he hurt?"

"Oh, no, I'm just dragging a tom down the street for fun," Bombalurina drawled sarcastically. "Listen, I have to be somewhere, but I can't leave him here – "

"Sure I'll take him!" the kitten said eagerly. "Here, oh my, he's heavy."

"Oh, _thank you_." Bombalurina breathed. "You think you can handle him?"

"Oh, I can handle him," the kitten nodded eagerly. Bombalurina smiled at her protégé and disappeared into the nearest alley, without saying so much as a word to Mungojerrie, much to his depression.

Mungojerrie, feeling more and more like a bag of rotten potatoes, was draped over the kitten, who obligingly began pulling him down the road. Being very young, and rather shy, she didn't have much to say to him at first.

"My house is around here," she began eventually. "I'll show it to you when we go past it."

Mungojerrie really could have cared less, but he managed a weak grin.

Jemima, heartened, went on. "Mm-hmm. I live with a family that has little girls."

"My family 'as girls too. They tie ribbons 'round my neck."

"I used to wear a ribbon," Jemima told him conversationally, "but now I wear this collar. My friends gave it to me. You know, the girls in my family named me after a puddle-duck in a story?"

"Fine business, namin' a Cat after a duck," Mungojerrie answered vaguely, hoping she wouldn't catch him looking back behind them for anything familiar.

As she dragged him down another endless street, Jemima chattered on and on as to the results of being named after a duck. Mungojerrie soon lost interest, and began to think.

_Maybe there's still some way I can deliver this thing_, he thought. _And if I did deliver it after such an event, what with injuries and Pollicles and all, that'd really be 'eroic!_

Ah, if Mungojerrie only knew the definition of the word!

When Jemima said for the tenth time, "We're almost there," Mungojerrie noticed a little black kitten skipping in their direction. It took him a moment to realize it was a Cat nearly his own age. It took him even longer to realize it was a tom.

Mungojerrie snorted, which did nothing to improve the newcomer's opinion of him. The black Cat glared at him, then turned hastily to Jemima.

"Who is this, Jemima? I don't recognize him. Was he at the last Jellicle function?"

"No, he wasn't," she answered, sounding guilty. "I found him – he was hurt."

The snobby black Cat's copper eyes grew almost as big as his giant ears.

"Jemima, what are you _doing_? You know better than to pick up a tom off the streets!" He said it protectively enough, but to Mungojerrie he seemed more of a know-it-all. The black Cat stared at him uneasily.

"Oh, Mr. Mistoffelees, don't be silly! He's very friendly, he has nice manners, and he's clean." It was clear to Mungojerrie at this point that Jemima was delusional. He was never clean! "See – he's a Jellicle Cat – " Mungojerrie balked at this " – he's wearing a collar. But most importantly, he's hurt. I wasn't just going to leave him in the street."

Mungojerrie mustered a pathetic nod.

At that, Mr. Mistoffelees became more thoughtful, and eyed the calico Cat with a deal less suspicion, though he still crossed his tiny little arms.

"What happened to you?" he asked, at length.

"Fell off a clothesline," Mungojerrie began brusquely, but then thought better of it. He needed to make a good impression. "I was climbing a clothesline from one roof to the other, and I fell off."

"What's your name? Certainly you asked his name, Jemima?"

"No…I didn't…." As Jemima explained why she had forgotten this Very Important part of the Introduction, Mungojerrie thought hard as to what he could use as his alias. He couldn't very well give his own name! He needed a name that was common, a name that wouldn't frame him if he got caught, a name like –

"Jonathan," he said brightly. "My, uh, name is Jonathan."

"That's a nice name," Jemima said kindly.

"You don't look like a Jonathan to me," Mistoffelees mumbled.

_Well you look like a ruddy fink_, was what Mungojerrie would have expressed, standing up to his full height, if Jemima had not interrupted. "Why are you such a grump today, Mistoffelees?" she asked the black Cat sternly. "He's weak, and he's tired. I was thinking maybe Jennyanydots might make him a place to sleep, if we ask Munkustrap first."

Mr. Mistoffelees considered this. "You could probably just take him right to Jennyanydots'," he offered eventually. "I'm sure Munkustrap won't mind."

"Mr. Mistoffelees knows Jennyanydots – she's a Gumbie Cat, you know – very well," Jemima explained to Mungojerrie, as if she were explaining it to a kitten half her own age. "He's her favorite."

Mr. Mistoffelees nodded in modest agreement, making Mungojerrie wonder what Gumbie Cat would have him as her favorite. "We'll have to enter through the back door, however, otherwise we might wake up the family."

Jemima nodded and hauled Mungojerrie after her. After what seemed like ages to Mungojerrie they arrived at a white picket fence, encircling a garden of chrysanthemums and other autumn flowers, all perfectly well-kept. Mungojerrie noticed, in astonishment, a double file of twelve mice marching up through the garden. They squared off, military style, at the Cat-door, where they took turns and one by one disappeared into the house.

"What're they doin'?" he whispered, staring at them in confusion.

"Tonight's baking night," Mr. Mistoffelees said, and Jemima nodded. Mr. Mistoffelees went ahead and stuck his head through. "Jennyanydots? May we come in?"

Mungojerrie heard a sing-song voice reply, "Yes, dear! I do love visitors!"

"Yes, well, it's going to be less than happy tonight," Mr. Mistoffelees said, as he held the door open and ushered Jemima and Mungojerrie inside.

Mungojerrie examined the kitchen and, because old habits die hard, noticed a pair of pristine monogrammed dish towels which would look nicely in Victoria Grove…

"OHHHHHH!" a fat old queen with clowny makeup shrieked in his face. Mungojerrie jumped four feet in the air. "The poor dear!"

Apparently Jemima had explained the situation. "…And we were hoping you could take care of him," she finished. "Do you have a spare cushion?"

"Do I have a spare cushion? Jemima dear, how long have you known me? Of _course_ I have a spare cushion!" Jennyanydots shook her head. Then she whistled through her teeth. Mungojerrie watched, hungrily, as four mice appeared in the room.

"Now we don't eat mice around here," Jennyanydots informed him quickly, much to his dismay. "I need you four to get the guest cushion. We have an invalid on our hands! And you three, over there, _yes_, you! Pop that cake in the oven for me! Jennyanydots is going to be very busy tonight!"

"What can I do?" Mr. Mistoffelees asked eagerly, but getting in the way of the mice in the process.

"Jemima, go get Jellylorum," Jennyanydots said as she bustled around the kitchen, washing flour off her paws. "And you dear, sweep up in here. No matter how much you teach them, mice are simply _too small_ to do the sweeping." She turned to Mungojerrie and looked at him critically. "He's not much to look at, is he?" she clucked.

Mungojerrie grimaced.

"No, he's really not," Mr. Mistoffelees agreed, producing a broom from seemingly nowhere.

"Ah, well, we aren't running a beauty pageant around here. Oh, and after you're finished with the sweeping, dear, do go get Munkustrap so he can have a look at our guest. You then," she said to Mungojerrie, as he stared about him blankly, "you come with me."

Jennyanydots led him to a well-furnished, tidy room, a thing Mungojerrie was unused to, and sat him down on a pillow. There was a dish on the floor with a cake on it.

"A mouse-cake. Made _for_ mice, _by _mice. But you can have one too."

Even though she was old, she was actually sort of tolerable. Mungojerrie shoved the mouse-cake into his mouth, and licked the crumbs off his fingers, making sure not to waste any.

"You're half-starved," Jennyanydots, who was far from starved herself, observed. "Very scrawny. Well not for long! Not in this house – as long as _I'm_ in command!"

Mungojerrie, despite all odds, was actually enjoying himself very much, and thinking he would have to come back to this house – not to visit, but for business – if he survived Macavity's wrath. Everything, including the bleak future, seemed better now that he had a mouse-cake in his stomach. Jennyanydots patted his head and beamed at him. Then she turned her immense back to him; Mungojerrie, being very curious, craned his neck to see over her shoulder. She produced a nasty looking tonic. "Now, be a good boy and drink this."

Mungojerrie gagged. "Uh…no thanks." He gave his most winning smile.

"Oh no, if you're going to get better you're going to drink this." She stuck it to his mouth, but he shut it just in time to keep it from going down.

"Stubborn, hmm?" she asked. "Or are you stupid? Do you even know your alphabet?" Mungojerrie was stunned. He opened his mouth to show her that he did _too_ know his alphabet, and he knew Dutch numbers too, when the Gumbie Cat swiftly poured the contents into his throat.

Gone were any memories of mouse-cakes, replaced by the horrible bitterness of the thick, sticky tonic. Mungojerrie coughed, and sputtered, and glared at his attacker.

"Oh, you _are_ clever, Jennyanydots," she congratulated herself. "You'll be better soon, dear. Now, is that the door I hear? That would be Jemima come back, and hopefully Jelly too."

Mungojerrie watched, disgusted with the beastly old queen, as Jennyanydots waddled out of the room.

When she was gone, he threw the empty dish at the door in an act of defiance, then pulled his gimpy leg up onto the cushion and scanned the room, particularly the windows, for an escape route. Once he and Rumpelteazer had been put in jail, but they had managed to break out. (They had even sent their picture to the newspaper, because all publicity is good publicity.) He planned on using the same tactics here, but he couldn't really think that well with the awful taste still burning in his mouth. He licked the carpet to try and get rid of it.

Jennyanydots soon returned with a queen just a bit older than Mungojerrie, but who had an air of someone the Gumbie Cat's age.

"Jonathan, this is Jellylorum, and a finer young queen you won't find in London," Jennyanydots said, approvingly. Mungojerrie actually _had_ had the privilege of seeing finer young queens before. Jellylorum looked very dull and sallow compared to the girls Mungojerrie was used to, but she surprised him by immediately taking his pillow, fluffing it, and providing him with a fresh dish of water. "There now, you're set!" she said, pleased with herself.

"Oh, Jelly, you always know exactly what to do!" Jennyanydots beamed at her protégé.

"Thank you, Jenny. Helping Gus all these years ought to have given me some experience!"

They both laughed. Jellylorum smoothed out her yellow fur and stared at the invalid thief.

"He's not much to look at, is he?" she whispered.

"No, he's really not." Jennyanydots shook her head regretfully. "Now then, Jonathan, we'll turn off the lights so you can get some sleep. I'll stay with you, and Jellylorum will finish up the household duties."

"You know those mice will never mind me," Jellylorum sighed.

"They really are much sweeter creatures than their reputation indicates," Jennyanydots said passionately. "Although those rats…ahem…they're quite a different story." She leaned in confidingly to Jellylorum. "Do you know I actually had to hide the silver from them? They would have made off with it if I hadn't! As it is, I hid it in the one spot they'll never find." Mungojerrie thought, languidly, that he would be able to find the silver. But Jennyanydots beamed, pleased with herself, and turned to leave the room when Mr. Mistoffelees suddenly appeared.

"I went to get Munkustrap – " he began.

_Munkustrap was the Jellicle Guardian_, Mungojerrie remembered in alarm. He couldn't very well let _Munkustrap_ see him!

"I don't need to be put to bed," Mungojerrie protested hastily.

"What do you mean?" Jennyanydots asked. "You're an _invalid_!"

Mungojerrie blinked, and had the awful feeling he was losing. "No, no, I, uh… just needed a little rest! I'm not hurt, really!"

They stared at him doubtfully.

"Yeah!" he went on. "I'm fine. Just needed a little food, that's all!" Mungojerrie looked from one suspicious face to another, nodded rapidly and began to demonstrate, but instead yowled in pain at the slightest pressure on his paw. He collapsed on his pillow in shameful defeat.

"Not hurt, hmm," said Jennyanydots, giving a very knowing (and very annoying) look to Jellylorum.

"No, wait, listen," Mr. Mistoffelees continued. "I _tried_ to get Munkustrap, but Alonzo said he'd gone to see Old Deuteronomy and wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. Of course that's all the way out at the Vicarage. And Alonzo won't come out tonight because he's _too busy_," he added, pointedly.

Jennyanydots considered this, deep in thought. "Well," she said, eventually, "I don't see how much harm this scrawny little tom can do, do you, Jellylorum?"

"No, I can't, and I've thought of every possible outcome."

_Not all of 'em,_ Mungojerrie thought, remembering the dishtowels greedily.

"Well then, you'll stay for tonight," the Gumbie Cat said to Mungojerrie. "If you'll be a good boy. And then Munkustrap will see you, and then Old Deuteronomy, and then you'll be a part of the Jellicle family!"

"You'll like Old Deuteronomy," said Mr. Mistoffelees, from the doorway. "He's very kind and…venerable. Isn't he venerable, Jennyanydots?"

"He is," said Jennyanydots, humoring him.

At this point Jemima suddenly came rushing into the room. "One of the mice fell into the teapot!" she cried, distraught.

"Oh dear, not again," Jennyanydots grumbled, as Jellylorum and the rest followed her out of the room.

Mungojerrie spent what, in other circumstances, would have been a very nice night in Jennyanydots' comfortable house. But he took up most of it hatching greatly impossible plans, which only got more impossible as the night went on and he became sleepier. Most of them involved quite a bit of inquisition, because he knew he would have to surreptitiously find the tortoiseshell tom, whose name he did not even know, and deliver the envelope intact, and get it done quickly, as soon as his leg healed. Things seemed bleak, it was true. But Mungojerrie, as he always told his sister, was experienced. It would take a tom like himself to find a way out of this predicament.

He woke up in the morning to see Jellylorum staring directly into his face. He uttered something, still half asleep.

"Well _that_ is no way to talk to a queen who woke you up _three times_ last night to give you tonic," she said, giving him a disgusted look.

Mungojerrie regarded her. "If you woke me up, out of sweet dreams, _three times_ to give me that nasty tonic, then I think I _can_ talk to you like that," he countered. He was very clearly still half asleep, otherwise he would have known better.

Jellylorum glared at him. "You had better mind me while I'm around," she told him with spirit, "or else I'll set you out on the street in this condition, and then where will you be?"

Mungojerrie had no answer to this, but he scowled at her.

"Yes. That's what I thought." Jellylorum gave a firm nod, and left him, taking his dish with her.

Having thusly got her out of the room, Mungojerrie quickly propped himself up and took inventory of damages. His leg, thank Heaviside, was much better – he could probably get around on it by the afternoon, if he wasn't ashamed of limping a little. He was still sore, and bore a few scratches on his very manly frame, but otherwise, if he had the brains, there still might be a chance of delivering the package. And then he would stay alive, and Macavity would applaud him, and Jonathan would cower, and most of all he would be a hero. Mungojerrie reached beneath his vest to pull out the envelope and –

Found out there was no envelope.

And no vest, for that matter.

There must have been a miracle that day, because Mungojerrie the Invalid sprang a full three feet into the air, landed on both injured paws, and whirled around in a frantic search for his vest. He dived beneath the tables, opened drawers and flung their contents across the room like a very hurricane. He rushed to the fireplace and grabbed the poker to sift through last night's ashes. He ransacked hat boxes and knitting baskets, stuck his head out the window to look in the garden, went through the lady's private journal and even seized a stray mouse to interrogate him, all to no avail. His vest and his envelope were nowhere to be found.

When Rumpelteazer wasn't around, Mungojerrie sometimes had to talk to himself. "Holy mackeral, I have to find 'at thing," he whimpered. "When could they've took it off me? I sleep with one eye open!"

In reality he slept like a log, and he didn't even take the alcohol in the tonic into consideration. He gnawed at his claws. "AND WHAT IF THEY READ THE PAPERS?"

He would end up in the big house! He couldn't support Rumpelteazer – she'd be flung out into the streets, at the mercy of Macavity's goons! Who knew what horrors awaited her? AND him? Macavity might be plotting his murder this very minute!

Mungojerrie gave one final glance over the large room, went to open a desk drawer, then peeled up the rug thinking that horrible Gumbie Cat might have swept something under it. But he was severely disappointed. There was nothing under that rug except floorboards, that squeaked and shifted as he walked across them. As he turned to drop the rug back into place, his hind claw suddenly snagged in a crack in the floor. Mungojerrie seemed ready to cut his foot off as he whirled around, but his thieving eye caught sight of something soon enough to save that appendage. He pulled his claw out of the crack, and wedged his paw in and then, to his surprise, the floorboard came loose!

Mungojerrie peered down into what was apparently the hiding place for the silver. He pulled away two more loose floorboards, creating a hole large enough for a Cat, and cast his greedy eyes over all the shining flatware. Yes, he though merrily as he expertly replaced the floorboards and rug, he would certainly be coming back to this house!

Assuming he survived this ordeal. He still hadn't found his vest.

Mungojerrie leaned against the door and breathed big breaths. He shivered, more from fear than from his being vest-less. He slid down and sat on the floor, holding his head in his paws.

Presently he heard two queens outside the door, and from the sounds of it they were arguing. He realized one of the voices was Jellylorum, who sounded exasperated. He hurriedly limped back to his cushion, in case they came inside. He had no manners, so you must forgive him for eavesdropping.

"Bombalurina," Jellylorum implored, "I have to check on Gus. Can you _please_ just stay with Jonathan while I step out for a moment?"

"I'll get him too excited," the other voice warned. Mungojerrie's ears involuntarily perked up. He recognized it as the voice of the wonderful queen last night, although to Mungojerrie she didn't sound too concerned. "Not good for an invalid, you know."

"Just do it, Bombalurina. A little responsibility won't completely bewilder you, will it?"

"Wow, Jell, that was hilarious. Don't you remember? I _saved_ him last night."

"Then you ran off because you had a 'prior engagement' and left Jemima dealing with him. Please, Bombalurina. Just…sit there, and make sure he doesn't need anything. _I_ thought you wanted to reform, but I suppose…"

Apparently that did the trick, and the other queen sat, because Jellylorum said "thank you" and Mungojerrie heard her walk away.

Mungojerrie had decided on one of his most impossible plans the night before, but he now thoroughly discarded it for desperate measures. The way he figured, if he could get that queen to come inside, he could trick her into getting his envelope for him, and then as soon as he could he would make his lucky.

Unfortunately, Mungojerrie might have been experienced in theivery, but having lived with his sister his entire life he was not experienced with queens, especially ones like Bombalurina. As he plotted, the queen outside the door surprised him by sticking her head into the room.

"Hello again. You were a little out of it last night, weren't you?"

Mungojerrie got distracted by her green eyes – but only for a moment!

"What's it to you?" he asked, or rather choked. _Mungojerrie ol' boy, you're gettin' hooked again…_

The reddish queen stood up to her full – very tall, taller probably than Mungojerrie – height, glanced quickly over her shoulder, and strode into the room. "What's it to me?" she repeated, "well, I always like to have a formal introduction."

Mungojerrie barely heard that last part. He was thinking about how long and silky her fur was, and wondering why he didn't notice it last night. He blinked.

Bombalurina flowed over to the window, carefully brushing against Mungojerrie's shoulder as she passed, and looked out. "Looks like Mr. Mistoffelees is doing one of his witch dances again," she sighed. Mungojerrie craned his neck to see – sure enough Mr. Mistoffelees, who lived next door, was attempting something that barely classified as dancing.

"That's stupid," he found himself agreeing.

"He's cute enough, but he's not really…" Bombalurina trailed off, shaking her head.

Mungojerrie was _not_ jealous, of course. Although he did wonder what the heck _Mr. Mistoffelees_ had to do with the conversation.

Mungojerrie watched, puzzled, as Bombalurina took a seat. She was obviously a Jellicle, but she seemed…different, somehow. Less refined, really. He shrugged, and tried not to let his guard down. She was a very beautiful Cat, of the model we might have first seen when we began to openly worship them long ago. Mungojerrie, if he had been a weaker Cat, might have fallen at her feet on the spot.

"Jellylorum said your name was Jonathan," said Bombalurina. "I knew a Jonathan once. Common name, really. If you're no more creative than that you deserve to be shot!"

Mungojerrie gulped.

"I didn't like him," she drawled. "But you can't judge every Cat by his name, I suppose. After all, I hardly know _you_. Jemima said you were rather rude," she added, in a sharp tone she hadn't used before. "What business did you have being rude to Jemima?"

"I just fell off a clothesline," Mungojerrie reminded her quickly.

"_That's_ no excuse. I hate excuses."

"Well, that's the truth," Mungojerrie informed her.

The two stared at each other for some length, until Bombalurina finally said, in her original fluid voice, "Seems we got off on the wrong start. I'm Bombalurina, by the way. That's an example of a_ very_ creative name. My mother gave it to me."

She held out a white paw for Mungojerrie to take. He eagerly took it, with his best effort of a dashing smile.

"Listen Bombalurina," he began sweetly, "I 'ad a vest last night an' – "

"A vest!" she laughed. "Where on earth did you get a vest? Doll vest?"

"No," Mungojerrie answered, offended. "I took it meself." Somehow that didn't sound so great in context.

"You took it? As in, stole it?" The red queen's eyes suddenly seemed sharp as glass.

"Well it 'ad a 'ole," Mungojerrie improvised. "They wasn't usin' it."

"What do you want with the vest?" she asked.

"I think one of those queens took it off me last night."

"Why would they do a thing like that?"

Mungojerrie was getting pretty tired of her banter. "I dunno! To wash it, I guess."

"Are you cold?"

Mungojerrie paused. "Yes. I am."

"All right. I'll go get it."

Bombalurina returned about ten minutes later, with his vest in tow. She held it up, and Mungojerrie almost didn't recognize it. It was pressed and starched.

"Jennyanydots got to it," she said with a wry smile. "She must not have thought you'd get cold. Tsk tsk."

Mungojerrie snatched it from her and found the envelope was gone.

"Looking for this?"

Bombalurina had the envelope pinched in her paw. It was soggy at the edges, and hung limp. Mungojerrie grabbed at it.

"My, we _are_ a thief," Bombalurina laughed, holding it high over her head. "Hmm, I wonder what's inside? Secrets." She acted as if she was going to open it.

"No, stop!" Mungojerrie cried. She stopped, and looked at him. He clamped his paw over his mouth.

"What's so important?" she asked.

Mungojerrie came up with the quickest answer he could. "It's for my girlfriend!"

The fiery queen's face fell. "Oh, so you've got a girlfriend. Hm. No use flirting with a taken tom." She handed him the envelope.

"It's important," Mungojerrie faltered.

"I'm sure it is."

He thought maybe she was jealous. "Don't worry. You're very beautiful! You're so beautiful, like a red…" What was red? Ketchup, yes, Father Christmas, certainly, blood…well… "Like a red rose!" That described her perfectly. She even smelled like roses.

"Well it's not like I've never heard that one before."

Rather injured at his magnificent compliment being so flatly received, he began again. "You don't understand, Bom…uh…"

"_Bombalurina,_" she answered, tersely.

"Yeah." Mungojerrie scrubbed at the back of his neck. It was a hard name to remember. "It's just that…I'm sort of…tryin' to start a new life," he said, trying to make it as flowery-sounding as he could, wishing she would be sympathetic. He looked up at her hopefully.

"Ha!" Bombalurina caught up her tail and examined it as she spoke. "New life. Me too. I came from a rather rough background, in case you couldn't tell."

"I couldn't tell," Mungojerrie said, truthfully.

"You're lying."

"I couldn't! And I should know!"

Mungojerrie didn't know what made him say that. Really he didn't care. That was what telling the truth got you and, besides, if she wasn't going to talk to him, then he was very concerned with examining his envelope. Perhaps if he had been looking up he would have noticed the change in the pair of green eyes.

When he did look up, he realized she was gone. "Wonder what made 'er leave?" Well, now was no time for sentimentality. When he rubber-necked to look, he saw she was seated outside the doorway again, just in time for Jellylorum's return.

"Gus was fine," Jellylorum chattered, "he protested that I shouldn't have wasted my time and gave me some nonsense about making himself an egg sandwich. A _Cat_ making an _egg sandwich_! Have you ever?"

"Yeah."

Jellylorum frowned at Bombalurina, and might have said something if Jennyanydots did not appear, blocking all light from coming in the doorway.

"Hello, Jelly! Bombalurina? What brings you here? Oh, never mind. Yoohoo! Jonathan!" She blundered through, and even though he plugged his ears, Mungojerrie still heard her shout, "You have visitors!"

"Visitors?" Why, who would come to see him?

"Two of Mr. Mistoffelees's little friends." Jennyanydots motioned to Mr. Mistoffelees and a pair of identical, Eastern-looking Cats.

"Jonathan," said Mr. Mistoffelees, beginning the formal introduction, "This is Coricopat, and this is Tantomile."

Each Cat nodded as their name was spoken, but neither said anything.

"I'm Jonathan," Mungojerrie told them.

"We have heard of you from Mr. Mistoffelees," said Tantomile, who was a queen.

"He says you have gone through misfortune," Coricopat, a tom, added.

Mungojerrie rocked on his pillow. "Yeah. I fell off a clothesline."

"We know."

Mungojerrie looked blankly between the two faces.

"Another visitor!" The Gumbie Cat yelled from the hallway. "Several, in fact! Oh, what's that? Oh my." Jennyanydots became very quiet and poked her head into the room. "Old Deuteronomy is coming."

Mungojerrie realized his envelope was still in full display, and as soon as the others became distracted by the new arrivals, he shoved it under his cushion.

"Why did you do that?"

Mungojerrie whirled. It was Bombalurina.

"It's a secret, remember?"

"It's not good to keep secrets when you're a Jellicle," she advised him. "Oh, she's here. Here I am!"

Bombalurina waved to another new queen, this one gold and black, who ducked through the fast-forming crowd. Mungojerrie watched what went on next. She give Bombalurina a hug. "I'm glad to see you again," she gasped.

"Did you have a good time at the Vicarage?" Bombalurina asked, stroking the fur of her friend.

"Well, it was unfamiliar, but I got used to it," the golden queen said with a weak smile, neither of them taking any more notice of Mungojerrie. So Mungojerrie took no more notice of them. As it was, he really didn't have a choice – a large, apparently angry tom was barrelling down on top of him.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his face right up to Mungojerrie's. "What are you doing in our territory?"

"It didn't seem as if you cared last night," Mr. Mistoffelees said, coolly, from the doorway.

"Alonzo must have been tired," a gray tabby offered, with a kindly look for Mr. Mistoffelees and a scowl for patchy-colored, irritable Alonzo. "Now then, young tom, your name is Jonathan?"

"Uh…yes."

"Human name, I suppose? You go by your human name?"

"Yes."

"So does Alonzo," the tabby remarked. "See, Alonzo, you two have something in common!"

Alonzo made no reply.

"Go get Old Deuteronomy," the gray tabby growled at him. "He's my brother," he explained. "And my name is Munkustrap."

Mungojerrie twitched, and a bead of sweat dropped down his vest. "Nice to, uh…meet you, Munkustrap."

"Likewise." Munkustrap nodded, authoritatively, and Mungojerrie waited till he looked away before breathing a heavy sigh.

Suddenly the room fell eerily silent. Coricopat and Tantomile had left, and they now crept back into the room. Cats gathered on both sides of the doorway, eager and expectant. Mungojerrie was stranded in the middle of the huge room, on an island of a cushion. He waited for whatever was coming.

Mungojerrie, to be frank, was not particularly impressed by what followed. Alonzo entered, bringing with him a heavyset, elderly gray Cat. That was all.

"Old Deuteronomy."

Mungojerrie realized Munkustrap was speaking to him. His attention was distracted, only for a moment, by Bombalurina and her friend's staring at him. He felt rather impressed, and turned a bit to the right so they could catch his good side. He was so impressed, in fact, he forgot he had no good side. Then he focused his attention on Munkustrap.

"Jonathan," repeated Munkustrap, irritably, "this is _Old Deuteronomy_."

Mungojerrie looked from one shocked face to the next. They were apparently expecting something. He looked up at Old Deuteronomy. "Hey."

Jennyanydots and Jellylorum gasped. Mr. Mistoffelees looked at Munkustrap. Munkustrap had turned quite red. "See?" Alonzo bellowed "He's a troublemaker!"

But Bombalurina was having a hard time stifling a smile.

Mungojerrie suddenly became frightened, with all the Cats staring venemously at him.

"I'm sorry, Old Deuteronomy," Munkustrap said hurriedly.

"Why are you sorry, Munkustrap?" Old Deuteronomy chuckled. "He's obviously quite new here, and unused to formal introductions." Despite his fat, he managed to bend down to Mungojerrie. "My boy, I am Old Deuteronomy, and I am pleased to meet you."

"Sorry," Mungojerrie said. "Sorry I screwed up."

"You didn't offend anyone. And _we _should be sorry – sorry you got hurt in Jellicle Territory. Rest assured, be certain we will do all we can for you."

Munkustrap looked stunned, but acceptive.

Each Cat stood in line, ready to shake Mungojerrie's paw. Coricopat and Tantomile gave each paw a soft press at the same time. Mr. Mistoffelees presented a bow. Alonzo's whiskers twitched, but even he eventually conceded.

"We already shook hands," Bombalurina said when her friend tried to push her ahead. "Go on."

The golden queen stepped up and her eyes, which were usually directed at the floor, suddenly came into sharp focus on his face. He looked back, and for a moment is was almost as if he had seen her before somewhere. Of course he could have been wrong – Mungojerrie was terrible with faces, and he was also a bit flustered at being stared at by such a handsome queen. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he had seen her once before.

He was dwelling on this, and racking his brain for faces, when the queen said, "Excuse me."

She slowly extended her paw. "Hello," she said in a soft, almost trembling voice.

"Others are waiting," Bombalurina reminded her.

"I _know_ that."

Bombalurina was stunned by this sharp outburst, and stepped back. Mungojerrie stared up at the queen. _Where 'ave I seen you before?_

"I just wanted to…welcome you…" she said, trying to take his paw in a gesture of friendship.

Mungojerrie decided to forget whatever thought was nagging him and slapped his paw into her own. "Ello, sweet-'art, it's good to be 'ere."

The queen stared at his paw, and he wondered if she'd seen a flea; then he realized she was staring at his scar. She snapped her head up and studied his face, and it was then he saw a pair of clear golden eyes he had heard rumors about before.

This was Demeter.

Mungojerrie yanked his paw back and sat on it, and desperately thought of a way out, but it was too late.

The color drained from Demeter's face. "He works for Macavity!" she shrieked.

Nearly twenty pairs of feline eyes swiveled onto Mungojerrie's figure. Munkustrap and Alonzo shouldered their way through the crowd, and while Bombalurina hurried to comfort Demeter, Alonzo roughly hauled Mungojerrie up off his cushion.

"What right have you to be here?" he demanded. "Are you an agent? One of Macavity's henchcats? You'd better tell us who you were targeting, or else you'll be sorry!"

Explaining would only make a worse misunderstanding. "You showin' off for the girls?" Mungojerrie commented calmly.

Alonzo turned red and pulled Mungojerrie up to look in his face. "We have heard of the Napoleon of Crime, and we do not like his spies."

He dropped Mungojerrie at his feet and stalked away – to stand in a group of thoroughly frightened queen kittens.

"Demeter, tell us more about this tom," Old Deuteronomy said, moving slowly toward her, but keeping an eye on the calico thief. "How do you know he works for Macavity?"

"I've _seen_ him!" she cried. "He got that scar working in reconnaisance. I saw him and sent him to the medic – he just doesn't remember me. He has a sister. She was the only queen that worked as an agent and didn't…stick around."

"Demeter," Bombalurina said, cautiously. "Are you sure this is him?"

"What do you mean 'am I sure'?" Demeter cried. "Of course I'm sure! Do you want one of Macavity's agents in Jellicle Territory? Jennyanydots' house, no less?"

"You could hold me ransom," Mungojerrie muttered.

Bombalurina looked at him, then back at Demeter. "It's as likely Griddlebone would work for Macavity, and she obviously doesn't even exist…. Trust me, Demeter, I've talked with him – he's not like the other agents."

Mungojerrie knew Bombalurina wouldn't say this if she knew what he wanted to do to the rest of them, and that involved a hammer and two cooking-pots.

"That only means he's a better actor," Munkustrap observed. "The Napoleon of Crime would not pick just anyone to carry out his important crimes."

"What are you going to do with me?" Mungojerrie asked.

"Put you in prison!" shouted Alonzo.

"No," Munkustrap said, "we have no hard proof, nothing that can put him in prison." The gray tabby looked Mungojerrie over. "He's injured," he said to himself. "What if we set him out on the street? Injured the way he is, that will be a good punishment."

"But Munkustrap, it's not hard enough!" protested Alonzo.

"We can't solve everything by violence, Alonzo," Munkustrap reminded him.

"We can't solve most things that way," agreed Old Deuteronomy. "I think your plan is best. We will leave Jonathan – "

"That's not his name," interrupted Demeter. "His name is Mungojerrie."

Bombalurina looked at him when Demeter said this. In the back of his head Mungojerrie wished he hadn't lied about it.

"Well then, we shall take Mungojerrie out into a different street, and leave him there, and he will have to fend for himself until he heals or someone else finds him."

"But we can't just leave him there!" Jemima, who had until now blended into the crowd, insisted. "He's hurt!"

"I'm afraid that's better than any alternatives, Jemima," Munkustrap said.

"But couldn't we give him a second chance? That's what we did with Bombalurina and Demeter."

Old Deuteronomy, Munkustrap, and even Alonzo became thoughtful at this. "We could. But this way is better for Mungojerrie's sake."

"I don't think so."

"Jemima," warned Munkustrap, and the kitten fell silent.

The room began to clear – the groups of kittens crept out, frightened, followed by Jennyanydots and Jellylorum and some other queens; Old Deuteronomy escorted Demeter, and Munkustrap and Alonzo took Mungojerrie into make-shift custody, to carry him out into the city. Mungojerrie did notice, with a bit of gratification, that Bombalurina stayed behind until they towed him out.

"You don't look very tough, Alonzo," she remarked.

"Oh, I don't? Perhaps you ought to take a second look – "

"Alonzo," said Munkustrap sharply, as they pulled Mungojerrie out of the room to leave him alone on the streets. Mungojerrie didn't really care. It wasn't like he needed the company, anyway. He'd lived with no one but Rumpelteazer for the first fourteen years of his life, and then fell in with Macavity and his set. A knockabout clown did better the fewer the distractions.

Bombalurina was not the only one left behind. Coricopat and Tantomile were there, silently regarding all that went on, and Mr. Mistoffelees, who busied himself with a pack of over-sized playing cards, was also among them.

"Why didn't you sense he was a criminal?" Mr. Mistoffelees asked the Pair, curiously, and flipping through his deck until he found the Joker.

They were silent for a while longer, watching Bombalurina leave, obviously – at least to them – holding her head higher than usual, and then they spoke. "I do not know," began Coricopat, frankly puzzled. "Perhaps…"

It was really very odd. Coricopat and Tantomile ought to have known everything.

"Perhaps," finished Tantomile, who was wiser, "we did not know he was a bad Cat, because he has a good soul."

Coricopat considered this, and Mr. Mistoffelees wondered if that was true. It was times like these he wished he knew more than parlour tricks.

Good soul or not, when Munkustrap and Alonzo were finished with him, Mungojerrie was stranded alone in the middle of the city, in a dismal alley that seemed almost nightlike, with the choking smoke rolling in at every corner. Things seemed hopeless for the scrawny thief who appeared dumber than most.

But those great tall toms did not take into consideration that the seediest areas of town were some Mungojerrie frequented. In fact, as they left him, with imaginings of his shivering and miserable outcome; even as Alonzo bent down and hissed, "Never let us see you in our territory again," they did not notice how he peered into the mist, and had a hard time hiding his smile as he thanked the Everlasting Cat.

Things, it seemed, were looking up.

Because Mungojerrie saw a particular streetlamp that looked all too welcoming.


	4. Holding Tight

**Chapter Four**

Holding Tight

Mungojerrie could not believe that other Jellicle Cats could be so downright stupid.

_He_ was a Jellicle Cat, and he was brilliant; and he had heard about all sorts of Jellicle accomplishments. But for two toms – the Jellicle Guardian and Jellicle Protector, no less – to drop him off right where he wanted to be, was providence.

And he had his envelope. He had made sure of that. In a swift motion during all the ruckus, he had tucked it back into his vest. Yes, things were going splendidly.

Now, where to go next? Mungojerrie scratched his ear and smushed a flea, and considered this. A tom in league with Macavity could be either one of two types – he could be on nearly the same level as Macavity: rich and bored, and entertained by crime just because he could be – Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer weren't rich, per ce, but they didn't steal because they had to. Then again, the tortoiseshell could be as low as a Stray henchcat, just doing it to get by without getting killed in the process. Mungojerrie would have loved to skip this deducing part, but it was important – he didn't want to waste time hunting through pubs when he could go directly to the ritzy joints.

He had a horrible time deciding. He stood there for some time, thinking, when he saw movement at another lamppost. He realized humorously it was that ratty gray queen from the night before, the one who was perfectly useless and very distracting and –

She'd been there the night before.

Mungojerrie cocked his head and stole a look at her. She was very shabby-looking – Mungojerrie knew those types on passing – but she seemed in her right mind. It would be a gamble that could lead him farther away, but Mungojerrie loved a gamble, so he dashed at his fur, straightened his vest, rubbed his paw against his collar till it shone, and sidled up to the gray queen.

"'Ello there," he said, smartly.

She turned her head towards him, and Mungojerrie shrank from the hollow, gaudily-painted eyes that greeted him. This Cat was bad off.

"Hello," she answered.

"Uh, yes ma'am," Mungojerrie began, remembering the etiquette his mother had taught him before she may or may not have been hit by an automobile.

The gray Cat seemed bemused. "Ma'am?"

"Well, I was tryin' to be respeckful," he explained slowly, because he felt he ought to with the eyes staring at him fearfully. "I need your help."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one in good feline years."

"You are very young."

"Listen," Mungojerrie started hurriedly, "My boss sent me to look for a fellow, a tortoiseshell. I was s'posed to meet 'im last night, but I missed me chance. Did you maybe see 'im?"

"Was he tall as you?" she asked softly, and in an oddly refined voice.

"I dunno, I've never met 'im before. 'E was s'posed to meet me over there." Mungojerrie gestured to last night's meeting place.

"I saw him," she said, reflectively.

Mungojerrie waited for her to explain further. When she didn't, he said hesitantly, "Can you take me to him?"

"I will," she replied. "If you will tell me something."

"Sure," Mungojerrie conceded, yet having the distinct feeling he shouldn't have.

"Will you be truthful?" she pressed.

Well, that depended on the question, but Mungojerrie answered in the affirmative.

"Am I," she faltered, "glamorous?"

Mungojerrie dug his paws into his pockets. He wasn't sure this was the right answer, but he felt, for unknown reasons, that he needed to tell her the truth. "No," he said softly, "I'm 'fraid you aren't."

She laughed, but it was as hollow as her eyes. "Well then, boy, I got what I asked – come with me."

She started off, limping slightly, down the streets. Mungojerrie, head tucked against the newly whipping autumn wind, followed her closely, and shivered, which he knew was rather cowardly. After long streets, which the queen navigated expertly, four turns and a gutter they had to cross, she brought him to a well-kept establishment.

"I believe he went here," the gray queen told him.

"How did you know?" Mungojerrie inquired, looking up at the nice place that contrasted sharply with the tattered queen. "Did you follow 'im?"

"No, but I've seen him there before."

"Oh. Thanks."

"I hope you get what you were looking for," she said, lingering as if she didn't want to leave.

"Yeah, me too." Mungojerrie nodded. She didn't leave. "G'bye."

She nodded, and turned away. Eventually she faded into the gray fog, and he saw her no more.

Mungojerrie turned his attention to the task at hand. This building was old and ivy-encrusted, and apparently still used by people. That meant the Cats would gather in the basement. He crept to the back of the house where he found a gap in the door, similar to that in the door of Macavity's headquarters. He stooped and crawled under, and found himself in a large, highly decorated room. The curtains were open, the rugs were still woven and not scratched, and there were Cats _everywhere_. Toms on the bookshelves, toms on the sofa shoved into the corner, toms on and under tables, betting, gambling, smoking catnip and altogether having, apparently, a jolly good time.

Mungojerrie spied his fellow over in the corner, conversing loudly with two others in a very upper-class accent. "It was really very good," he was saying. "Shakespeare, I think. Wasn't _Othello_ Shakespeare? It was."

Mungojerrie walked up to him. The tortoiseshell he had searched for greeted him with a snarl. "Who are you? I don't believe you're VIP."

"Oh, I _am_ sorry good fellow," Mungojerrie answered obligingly. "I'm afraid I must have a bit of a _tete-a-tete_ with you, if you will. Outside the premises, preferably."

Mungojerrie got tongue-tied talking so _proper_, but it worked. The tortoiseshell followed him out the door. "Yes, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Listen," Mungojerrie began. "I'm with Napoleon." Those were his key words. The tortoiseshell's eyes grew wide.

"Ah, I see? Why weren't you at the rendezvous last night?" he added severely.

"Got chased by coppers," Mungojerrie replied regretfully.

"Have you got the envelope?" the tortoiseshell asked, looking around carefully. "My name is Augustus – perhaps he told you."

"Here you go, old chap," Mungojerrie said, pulling the talisman out and placing it firmly in the hands of the tortoiseshell tom. "Take good care o' that. You don't know _what_ I went through getting it to you."

"You can be certain I will," he agreed. "Take care and stay out of trouble, will you?"

Mungojerrie nodded and before he was seen, ran off as fast as he could.

The house in Victoria Grove was a welcome sight, and he tumbled down the basement stairs in hopes of seeing Rumpelteazer. She was down there, with four necklaces on her neck, laughing gleefully and drawing in the dirt on the floor. Mungojerrie felt sorry for her. She was always very bored without him.

"Rumpelteazer!" Mungojerrie cried, flinging his arms wide, "I'm home!"

She looked up. "Yippee."

Mungojerrie overlooked that.

"Aw, Rumpelteazer, don't be sore. Things are looking up for us. I got that envelope delivered, and I'm pretty positive Macavity's gonna promote me." He nodded, and was pleased with himself.

"What makes you so sure of that?" she asked, still holding out.

Mungojerrie sat back and took his sweet time in starting the story.

-X-

The Morning It All Concluded was about a week later, and in the English autumn a week makes a great difference in the weather. Where there had been pale sunlight and a break in the fog just days earlier, sheets of rain began falling that morning, unbearably drenching any Cat that may be foolish enough to be out on the streets.

Mungojerrie was not one of those. Nor was Rumpelteazer. In fact, both of them spent a large deal of time at the abandoned house of the deceased professor, where Macavity made his lodgings. Ever since Mungojerrie had successfully delivered The Envelope, the partners in crime had been important guests at the house, and Jonathan shivered in awe whenever they passed through.

Mungojerrie was engaged in telling the story to the solitary tom who had not already heard it three times when Rumpelteazer crept up behind him and started to whistle.

"Rumpelteazer, will ya' cut that out?" Mungojerrie hissed, not wanting to leave too much of a break in the story.

"Well, uh, Mungojerrie…" Rumpelteazer rocked on her heels and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then looked back at her brother.

"What?" he asked.

"Macavity's…" She nodded fiercely to the hallway then smiled amiably at the other tom to detract suspicion.

Mungojerrie finally got it. "Well, chap, I guess you're gonna have to wait around for the finale!"

The tom was very glad.

Rumpelteazer yanked Mungojerrie over to the great door of the library. "Macavity's in there," she whispered gleefully, positively hopping, "and he's got another bloke with him, and _I think it has to do with your job_!"

"Holy mackeral, Rumpelteazer, you're gonna catch it if he finds you listenin' in!" Mungojerrie gulped, but glaring at her.

"Aren't you the least bit curious?" she asked.

"No."

"Not a tiny bit?"

"No."

"Not a teeny tiny – "

"Rumpelteazer, I oughta belt you! Get away from here, you 'ear me? It ain't funny."

"Aw, Jerrie," she whined, "you're no fun!"

"Yeah well if we're dead 'ow fun will that be, huh? _Go._"

Rumpelteazer was already in her twenties, but she could act like a spoiled child sometimes, and so she huffed off and left Mungojerrie there without another look over her shoulder.

Mungojerrie frowned after her, and decided he was going to have to teach her some more. Listen in at the door. How childish!

So I don't exactly know why Mungojerrie paused, turned around, and crouched down to look under the door.

He couldn't tell very much from their feet, but he could tell the bright rust-colored ones belonged to Macavity, and the splotched brown-and-black ones belonged to Augustus, the tortoiseshell tom involved in his mission.

So Rumpelteazer was right – they _were_ talking about his job. Mungojerrie strained his ears to listen.

"Remarkable execution," Macavity was saying. "He told me the whole story – took his loving time about it, I must say, but he did exactly as I wanted."

"What choice did he have?" asked Augustus.

"None, I suppose," Macavity chuckled. "But that's no matter. It was all rather heroic, I must say, and what's done is done. Or is _about_ to be done, at least. You know what I always say, Augustus, 'A rose by any other name _would_ smell as sweet.'."

"That's Shakespeare, isn't it?"

It might've been Shakespeare, at any rate Mungojerrie didn't know, but he wasn't too daft to know it was a code, sort of like "I'm with Napoleon" –

Wait a ruddy minute. A rose?

Mungojerrie propped himself up on his elbow in alarm. He'd been saying something about roses just the other day. What was it? There had been the luncheon on Tuesday, and that wasn't it, and he hadn't heard the family talking about them, and…. It was then he remembered that ketchup was red, and Father Christmas was red, and blood was reddest of all, except for Bombalurina, who was…well… "Like a red rose!" That described her perfectly, but "It wasn't like she'd never heard that one before."

Mungojerrie jerked away from the door and retreated into the hall, horrified at what he just heard. The envelope he had delivered…and the old flame…and if Demeter knew Macavity, and Bombalurina knew Demeter, then couldn't it mean that…

All his lovely heroic fancies crashed down on him at once, and knocked him about the ears. He swayed where he stood, grasping onto the curtains that still blocked any light from coming into the room. Mungojerrie had always known, rather regretfully, that he was a fool, and he wondered now if he was not a coward. Heroism! Was getting someone killed heroic? Someone who had possibly saved him from death, even? He imagined Bombalurina's lovely, strong, defiant figure cold in the very same alley he had fallen into, because even she could not stand out against Macavity, and the calico tom shuddered.

Nothing was the way it was supposed to be, the whole world was tipped on it's edge!

But as Mungojerrie crept to his feet he had one large thought rambling about in his brain, and he, shivering, took notice of it. Was there time to save her? What was done was _about_ to be done. There was still time!

Mungojerrie leapt toward the parlour and then stopped, realizing it was possible that he himself could be killed.

_We must always take risks. That is our destiny._

Macavity had said it himself.

Mungojerrie stumbled into the parlor and found Rumpelteazer sulking on the armchair, and no other Cat in sight. "Rumpelteazer, I need to talk to you," he whispered hoarsely.

Rumpelteazer would have said something smart if she hadn't seen his face. "Oh, Mungojerrie, what's wrong?" She tumbled off the chair and hugged him. "What 'appened?"

"Listen Rumpelteazer," he said, holding her away at arm's length, "I've done somethin' terrible."

Rumpelteazer seemed undecided whether to applaud or scold. "What did you do?"

"That envelope – I think it 'ad instructions or somethin'. To kill someone."

Rumpelteazer's face went white. There is a code of ethics even among criminals, and as far as she saw it you could steal, but not kill. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna try to save 'er," he moaned.

"Can I 'elp you?"

"I need you to distract Macavity."

"He doesn't _like_ me, Mungojerrie, we both know that," Rumpelteazer admitted.

Mungojerrie wondered how to say this without sounding like a real creep. "Rumpelteazer, you're not…ugly. And Macavity isn't all that choosy, either. You can distract 'im, if you will."

"I'll do it," she vowed. "You need to go, fast."

"I'm goin'," Mungojerrie nodded. "I've got to try and fix this!"

Rumpelteazer watched her brother dash out the door, then she breathed a few big gulps and went to do what she would have eagerly done years ago if her brother had let her, and was now terrified to do since she had to save a life.

The fire was blazing just as forcefully as ever, but Macavity wasn't standing there when she entered. He was perched on the battered old desk, and anyone else who had been there was gone. Rumpelteazer kicked the door open and made herself stride in. She ought to have been more confident; when she woke up that morning she had looked in a stolen mirror and immediately said, "Rumpelteazer, you are looking _fine_."

Rumpelteazer squeaked, and Macavity immediately looked up. "What are you doing here?" he snarled.

The poor little queen was stunned and embarrassed. "I was, uh…" She suddenly remembered queens she had seen around the place before, and being rather a good actor herself struck up a show.

"I was comin' to see you, lovey," she cooed.

Any other tom in the position would have been terrified, but Macavity calmly regarded her. "Yes?"

"Mmm-hmm. It's about time we got to talking, _I think_, 'specially since me own brother is one of your top agents."

"Oh, you're quite right, Rumpelteazer," Macavity agreed. "Although he's only one half of the notorious duo, am I right?"

"You bet you're right," Rumpelteazer whispered, staring at him rapturously; although she shook with nervousness as he came closer. "But I think that uh…anyone would uh…wanna work for you." She gulped and her eyes grew wide as she realized he was purring, and Rumpelteazer began to think this wasn't such a great idea.

"Why are you in here with me?" he asked softly. "I thought Mungojerrie doesn't like it."

Rumpelteazer looked up at him. She was afraid of him, but she wasn't going to make like Mungojerrie _owned_ her or something. "I don't care if he likes it or not," she said, tilting her chin.

"I'm glad," Macavity whispered.

"Yeah…"

He grasped Rumpelteazer's paws in his own, and the poor queen looked up at him quite entranced, until she saw the terrible twist of anger on his features. She tried to pull away, but he had her fast. "Now if Mungojerrie never lets you come in here, then why are you here?" he demanded, bearing down on top of her.

"I told you already, I don't care what he thinks," Rumpelteazer whimpered. "I just came in here to see you, that's all – "

"Don't _lie_ to me," Macavity hissed. "_Where_ is _Mungojerrie_?"

"He's right downstairs," Rumpelteazer insisted, with growing fear. "Just go downstairs and look."

"Ah, you expect me to let you go so I can start a chase for your brother!"

"Why don't you believe me?" Rumpelteazer cried. "He's just downstairs and – "

"He's not downstairs!" Macavity shouted. "Wasn't your brother smart enough to realize I have agents all over the city? There were three who saw him leave the building. Now where is he going?"

"My brother _is too_ smart!" Rumpelteazer cried. "Smarter than you!"

Rumpelteazer realized what she said too late, and chided herself for it. Macavity looked at her, and his face was no longer twisted in anger, but that was worse. He released her paws and stared at her as she rubbed them and silently prayed for mercy.

Macavity strode across the room and paused by the far wall, the only one that wasn't lined with bookshelves. "Well, for such an intelligent adversary, I shall have to call desperate measures," Macavity purred. "Won't I, my dear?"

Rumpelteazer didn't understand what he meant. Macavity tapped the wall with his paw, and Rumpelteazer heard a horrible, fervent scuttling sound behind the wallpaper. It grew louder and louder, and closer and closer, and suddenly Macavity kicked a hole in the plaster.

A large rat with glowing eyes and bristling fur scurried out into the room, followed by four and five and then too many to count, although Macavity attempted it. "Twenty, yes, all accounted for." He looked, pleased, at the terrified Rumpelteazer. "Rats. They live in the walls of the establishment. They don't speak our language, unfortunately, but it's generally not too difficult to understand what they mean. _They_ are my top agents."

The largest rat came up to investigate Rumpelteazer, but she socked the primitive thing and sent it tumbling about the floor. She realized now that these were certainly Macavity's most loyal followers, and the most dangerous. They were rats who had been saved by Macavity from a dreadful fate, and who knew they must be indebted to the Cat for the rest of their lives. It was a sound terrible to hear, pairs and pairs of ragged claws scuttling across the silent library floors.

Macavity looked after them approvingly, then turned his attention to Rumpelteazer.

"What are you going to do to me?" she asked.

"Why, I'm going to let you go, of course!" he grinned. "I really ought to promote you to my top assistant, for giving me such _important_ intelligence, but I think you'll be pleased with just getting out of the room alive, won't you?"

Rumpelteazer stumbled out as he opened the door. "And now I think I shall give you a bit of intelligence. That envelope I gave your brother – you remember that, don't you, I'm sure he told you – it was a letter to my dear comrade Augustus. Augustus is _very_ well-trained in his business. Well, in that letter I instructed him – perhaps I ought to say asked, it's more polite – to _get rid_, so to speak, of an old love. Her name was Bombalurina. Beautiful queen, really, although too headstrong for her own good. Pity, it really is. You'll notice, she hasn't been around these parts in quite some time. She never will be again."

Rumpelteazer backed away as the Napoleon of Crime drew closer, his bright gold eyes sparking. "Because I'm of quite a benevolent nature, I shall even allow you to warn your brother, although I don't think that will do much good, as the rats have had a head start. I think it's a good choice I sent them, at any rate. They'll get the job done much more quickly, and I'll save Augustus all the dirty work. By the way, my darling," he added, "I think I can properly extinguish the fire now, don't you?"

And Macavity did just that. The fire that had been burning for so long was nothing but a gray pile of wet ashes after he was done with it, and that image seemed almost more terrible than the rats. Macavity looked from the fire to Rumpelteazer, and smiled at her. "Good day!"

The door slammed behind her, and the wretched squeaking and Macavity's reverberating laughter echoed down the hallway as Rumpelteazer turned tail and ran to the great door, ducking under it and out into the steadily pouring rain.


	5. Out With A Whimper

**Chapter Five**

Out With A Whimper

Because Mungojerrie had started out so early, he was actually ahead of the rats by a long distance. The problem was, his plummy sense of direction had either deserted him or never really existed. He lost a good deal of time searching street signs, and even the gray queen who had helped him before was holed up somewhere out of the rain. He didn't even notice the drops steadily soaking into his orange fur.

It must have been the same providence that saved him from the alley on that dark night that led him down just the right street, but smack into a huge black and white Cat.

The Cat puffed and grumbled, and stared down at him. "What is the meaning of this, I ask you _sir_?" he bellowed, brandishing a large silver soup spoon menacingly. "I am on the way to eat stuffed goose at _Blimp's_, I'll have you know, and besides which, I am not very keen on all this precipitation." At that, he held his spoon above his head to block out the rain.

"Listen," Mungojerrie began frantically, "I'm trying to find Jenny-somethin-other, do you know where she might be?"

"I have no time for frivolous chat," said the giant. "It is lunchtime."

"I just need you to sorta point me in the right direction," Mungojerrie insisted. "Do you know where that might be? I'm tellin' ya, sir, it's life or death!"

The tuxedo Cat shook his head, looking down his nose. "I'm not going to tell a ragamuffin where the lovely Gumbie Cat lives, much less at lunchtime. Good day, my boy!"

That was too much for the thief. "You listen, _my boy,_" he said threateningly, grabbing a pawful of the tuxedo Cat's cravat and dragging the huge face down to his own level, "you tell me where she lives, otherwise there'll be trouble for you, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"Oh, oh, pardon me, she lives that way! Please don't _mug_ me, or shoot me, or whatever you do!" he pleaded.

"Fine then," Mungojerrie said, brightening, "thanks loads!" He left Bustopher Jones sputtering something about the way this city was going, what with danger lurking at each street corner, and Mungojerrie rushed between the two buildings the Cat About Town had indicated with his spoon.

As he rounded the corner he recognized the neatly pruned hedges, the tidy garden, and the white fence of Jennyanydots' house. He also noticed Alonzo, talking to a queen and discussing the advantages of being a tom of his stature and strength. The last words Mungojerrie had heard from Alonzo – "Never let us see you in our territory again," were no joke. And Alonzo wasn't much taller than he was, but he _was_ much bigger. Mungojerrie leaned against the wall and tried to think, a difficult thing for him at any time, but made harder by the wetness of everything and the clock ticking away before Macavity got to Bombalurina. He eventually decided that he would just have to find Bombalurina's house, and get her away from it as soon as possible. Wiping a mix of rain and sweat off his neck, he started off again.

Mungojerrie shouldered his way between a pair of trashcans, and suddenly felt his back collide with the pavement behind him. He looked up to see the sky, mystified, and realized he had run full force into someone. He picked himself up and surveyed the area, and turning completely around caught sight of the most blessed, beautiful thing in the world.

"Bombalurina!"

"Mungojerrie?" Bombalurina stared at him in disbelief, then quickly looking around for anyone else she told him, "You had better get out of here! Alonzo's right down there," she motioned with her head, "and if he catches you…. Well nothing horrible will happen, it _is_ just Alonzo, but you still don't want to be found on this street. _What_ are you doing?"

Mungojerrie had flung himself at the red Cat. "Bombalurina," he said rapidly, "you're in big trouble."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, detaching herself with a joking expression.

"Macavity's after you."

Bombalurina pulled away, and her green eyes searched the street as her fur stood on end. "What do you know about Macavity and me?"

Mungojerrie was ready to open his mouth and tell her everything, but then he hesitated. Did he want Bombalurina to know he had delivered her death warrant?

No, he did not. But what could he say, as she stared steadily at him?

Mungojerrie shifted as he tried to invent a story, when he heard the sound of paws on the road not far away. He pushed Bombalurina into the shadows and peered around the trashcan, coming face to face with his sister.

"Mungojerrie!" Rumpelteazer cried, breathless. "I came as fast as I could! Macavity knows somethin's up! He's so mad he didn't even send that Augustus tom – he sent rats."

Mungojerrie's eyes grew wide. "Rats?"

"They're awful! Quick, you gotta hide! They're on their way now!" Rumpelteazer looked past him to see the red queen. "Is that her? Well I've seen better, but she doesn't deserve to be dead!" The little calico thief nodded and then darted away to find a safe hiding place from the scene of the crime.

"Now do you believe me?" Mungojerrie asked the shaking Bombalurina. "Now come on, we gotta find a place to hide you!" He grabbed on to her wrist in an effort to move her, but she remained where she stood.

"But what if they catch you?" she whispered. Gone was any toughness, she was frightened now, and unreasonable, and she didn't want Mungojerrie to get caught. "You aren't supposed to be in Jellicle Territory!"

"I don't care!" Mungojerrie yanked her behind him. "What if Macavity catches_ you_?"

When it was time to be a hero, it came in handy that Mungojerrie had been a thief. Bombalurina was naturally light on her paws, and Mungojerrie was silent by practice. With renewed purpose he led her around behind Jennyanydots' house. Keeping his eye on Alonzo the whole time, who was too absorbed in the white queen he was talking to to notice anyone else, Mungojerrie pulled Bombalurina to Jennyanydots' back door and easily picked the lock.

The door swung open, revealing the servant's quarters, and an open human door that led into a hallway beyond.

"We're here now, so go away!" Bombalurina told him frantically, trying to push him out the door. "M-macavity won't find me here."  
"Yes he will," Mungojerrie informed her. "He has agents at all street-corners at all hours. If they didn't see me pull you in here now, they've seen you loitering around here before. We have to find you a hiding place. Something they'll never suspect."

There was a trunk in the corner, but the lock was broken and besides, it would be too obvious. There was a wardrobe, but the doors wouldn't open from the inside. Not under the bed…

Mungojerrie tried to remember the room he had stayed in before. He knew the hatbox there wouldn't work, and the knitting basket was too small. Mungojerrie placed his paws to his head in a mighty effort at thought. You ought to know what he remembered.

He remembered peeling up the rug, and finding a hole in the ground large enough for a Cat and a store of silver. And the rats would never find it.

"Come with me!" Mungojerrie cried jubilantly. He looked at Bombalurina, and Bombalurina looked at him, and a scream echoed down the hallway.

"Oh, disgusting! Kill them!" It was a queen's voice, but it was soon drowned out by the frantic hisses of two Cats outside and the horrible, scratching claws that grated against the floor in the hallway.

The rats had come.

Mungojerrie flung the rug aside, jumped into the gap and pulled Bombalurina after him. Pulling the rug back into place, he slid the floorboards over their heads and shut out all the light.

Bombalurina breathed heavily. Mungojerrie backed away to give her some space but, forgetting he was hiding in a silver store he edged right into a fish fork. Stifling a gulp, he strained his ears for the sounds from above. The shuffling rat sound grew louder and louder as the wretched little creatures swarmed into the room to do the job they had been sent to do. A rat is a primitive animal, but it knows when it ought to find something it is not. They wriggled into boxes and bags, knocked half-shut closet doors wide open, and investigated under the bed, but to no avail. The two Cats that were their adversary were safely hidden away under the floor, the place they least expected.

Mungojerrie and Bombalurina scarcely breathed as they waited in the dark, listening for the sound above to die away, and after years and years of minutes, it finally did. The rats, poor unfortunate things, had to return to Macavity with the report that they had utterly failed, and that Bombalurina was alive. Hopefully he wouldn't understand them.

Mungojerrie tapped the floorboards and rug out of place and a square of light greeted him. He hoisted Bombalurina out, and climbed out after her, then lay on the floor in exhaustion. She was alive, but she wasn't safe, he realized, and he was going to have to figure out a way to hide her from Macavity permanently and –

What was she looking at him for?

Bombalurina was _certainly_ looking at him. Studying him, more like it. "You just saved my life," she stated. "Mungojerrie, you're a…you're a hero. _My_ hero."

Mungojerrie blinked.

"You really are, do you understand me? Macavity would have killed me if it weren't for you. I didn't even know heroes really existed but…apparently…they do."

Mungojerrie opened his mouth to say something, but what he intended to say will never be known, for at that moment Alonzo barrelled into the room, followed by a distraught white queen called Victoria.

"What are you doing here?" Alonzo made a rush at our hero, then stopped abruptly, and turned to Bombalurina. "What was he trying to pull?"

"Nothing," Bombalurina said calmly, happily noting the jealous look on Victoria's face.

"Didn't you see those awful rats?" Victoria cried.

"Something's going on," Alonzo said, "and I'm going to find out what is. I've called Munkustrap. Do you hear me?"

"Why don't you just do the job yourself?" Bombalurina said in an undertone, mischievously glancing sideways at Mungojerrie.

"Because I'm not _authorized_," Alonzo said. Although it could have equally been an excuse, because now he wasn't exactly sure if Mungojerrie was as evil as he first thought.

The following scene resembled, quite similarly, the scene from a week before when Bombalurina had saved Mungojerrie. Munkustrap appeared in the doorway to the room, Jennyanydots and Jellylorum rushed up behind him, Coricopat and Tantomile sidled in effortlessly, and Old Deuteronomy appeared last of all, but with a deal less fanfare than before.

"Munkustrap," Alonzo said, "we found Mungojerrie in our territory again."

"There were awful rats," Victoria said, rather spoiling her nice curtsy. Munkustrap looked past them both, and again Mungojerrie had the distinct feeling that the room had enlarged and he was stranded in the middle of it.

"Mungojerrie, what do you have to say for yourself?" asked the Jellicle guardian.

"I was just doin' my good deed for the day," replied the calico thief. "I didn't mean to stay very long. Got business at Victoria Grove to attend to." He shifted uneasily.

It seemed there was a debate going on between Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy's eyes, when Bombalurina said plainly. "He saved me,"

"What?" Munkustrap looked at her sharply.

"It's true. I made some bad choices in my life and I was about to pay for them, when Mungojerrie swept in and saved me. Macavity was going to kill me."

There was a thud as Demeter dropped to the floor.

Taking little notice of this not unusual occurrence, Bombalurina continued. "I think it's a very extraordinary act, considering Mungojerrie works for Macavity."

That last line was spoken very pointedly, and Munkustrap knew it.

"I don't work for Macavity anymore," Mungojerrie said, having just decided it.

"What about the rats?" Victoria insisted, clearly traumatized.

"What rats?" Jennyanyadots asked.

"There was a bunch of rats," Mungojerrie explained, "that worked for Macavity. They were gonna do the job or somethin'. I dunno, I just didn't want to have to meet them."

"I assume that was an understatement," Munkustrap said severely, but Jennyanydots interrupted. "What's going to happen to the rats?"

"Jenny," Jellylorum said calmly, "they're probably going to be…disposed of."

"Oh, no they _won't_!" Jennyanydots announced. "Not now that they've stepped foot in _my _house! I will adopt them as if they were my own!"

"What about Mungojerrie?" Bombalurina drawled. "He worked for Macavity, and he's in your house, are you going to adopt him?"

"No, it's all right," Mungojerrie said hastily, rather disturbed by the prospect. "Trust me Munkustrap – sir – if you don't…you know…_punish_ me, I can just leave. I'm never coming back. Rumpelteazer and I will lay low for a while." He thought of something, apparently important, because he walked right up to Munkustrap. "Bombalurina is a marked queen, now. If Macavity finds out she wasn't killed, he'll come after her himself. You'd better keep a close eye on her."

The room cleared as Mungojerrie walked out of the room. He didn't know that heroes felt so tired all the time. Alonzo looked away from the thief, Munkustrap looked directly at him, Jennyanydots seriously considered adopting him, and Old Deuteronomy suppressed a smile when the calico thief absently patted the great stomach of the Jellicle Leader as he passed him, creeping slowly down the hallway.

Mungojerrie soon found that living the life of a hero meant less time in the spotlight, at least in his case. It turned out, at least for a while, that Macavity was fooled into thinking a calico tom and a scarlet queen had been destroyed by a set of rats. He never saw his rats again, although he didn't particularly care now.

The truth was that Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were no longer the notorious couple of Cats they had been. Hidden away in the basement at Victoria Grove, they operated on a much smaller scale than they had, burglaring only on weekends and occasional national holidays. Why were they never reported to be seen, considering Macavity had so many agents? Well, the answer to that had to do with a certain bet Rumpelteazer had made in a certain craps game which prevented their doing so at the threat of their lives.

Mungojerrie knew his deed was noble, though for a time he failed to see the beneficial results that came of it. Then one Monday morning in the following May, Rumpelteazer came crashing down the stairs of the basement. It was Mungojerrie's turn to sleep in that morning, and he lay on his stomach in the Cat bed, staring out of window.

Rumpelteazer rushed up, carrying three doughnuts, a bottle of milk, and a tiny envelope, the kind used to send a note in a bunch of flowers.

"Look what I found," she said, tantalizingly holding up the note in front of Mungojerrie's face. "I think it fell out of a flower arrangement."

"The man never sends the lady flowers," Mungojerrie reminded her,.rolling over on his back with a groan.

"I wonder what it says?" Rumpelteazer pondered, holding it up to the window.

"Open it."

Rumpelteazer nodded seriously, then slit it open with her paw. Mungojerrie really could have cared less, but as Rumpelteazer read the card her face grew more serious and confused, so he became curious.

"What is it?" he asked.

Rumpelteazer held up a paw to shush him, and kept reading.

"What is it?" he pressed, crawling out of the Cat bed.

Rumpelteazer turned her back to him, and kept reading.

"Rumpelteazer!" Mungojerrie jumped up and yanked the card from her paws. As he read it, he became convinced there must have been a mistake.

They had been invited to the Jellicle Ball.

"We never go to the ball!" Rumpelteazer thought aloud. "We're never invited!"

Mungojerrie ignored her. He had a brief imagining that the card smelled like roses.

"What am I going to wear?" Rumpelteazer cried. She shook Mungojerrie at the shoulders. "I 'aven't a thing to wear! I wonder who invited us?"

"We can't go anyway, we'll be noticed," Mungojerrie reminded her absently, staring at the Cat-style handwriting on the bit of paper.

Rumpelteazer stared at him in disbelief, and then she caught the expression on his face. She was not quite so dumb as her brother thought she was, and she figured that, with a little bit of ingenuity, she could convince him to attend the ball.

Meanwhile, Mungojerrie had worked out the idea that, sometimes, it is better not to go out with a bang, but with a whimper instead. That, probably, is more heroic.

He tucked the card into his vest. For safe-keeping reasons, of course.

THE END


End file.
